Song of Solomon Series
by Isabelle
Summary: Set some fifty years after Dead Things, Spike dies and Buffy is immortal. Very AU. COMPLETED SERIES!!
1. Penny for Your Thoughts

Penny for Your Thoughts- Part 1 of Song of Solomon Series.   
("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.")

Isabelle 

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters—these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics by Beth Hart, The LA Song. 

Spoilers: "Smashed" 

Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. 

Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine. 

Feedback: Please!! bih80@yahoo.com

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"_Take me away with you, and let us run together_." Song of Solomon 1:4, The Bible   


She could hear the far-off fiddle in the crescent valley that dipped like a lover's breast upon black silk. She could hear the moon singing its farewell song to the birds and the sea. She could feel in the back of her neck how the sun was approaching to bathe the earth with its soft glow. 

She had not seen the sun in fifteen years. 

It was like a memory—but then she had a lot of memories. Some good, some bad, some not so pleasant. Some...she didn't let herself think about those. They were so happy she almost wondered if they belonged to her at all. 

The wet, slick road under her feet felt good, made her more aware of her surroundings, kept her on edge. She could fall, crack a bone, the possibilities were delectably endless. 

_She hangs around the boulevard   
She's a local girl with local scars   
She got home late_

She reached 15th Street a couple of seconds before the sun came out. Climbing the stairs quickly she made it to the fourth floor. The cracked and dirty white door before her that had been painted over in too many colors and seen too many bad days. She took out her card and slid it down the scanner, making the door pop open, an electronic voice greeting her. It closed behind her as she stepped over the threshold. 

Her card-keys sounded flat when they hit the glass table on the entrance. The apartment held one large sofa, a little TV and the glass table. It was worn, it was falling apart but it was one of the few things she had left. She took off her overcoat and hung it on a bare nail protruding from the wall. Trusty nail, she thought briefly. Reaching for her hair clips, she let her hair loose; it cascaded in blonde waves to her waist, her leather halter top allowing her to feel the warmed locks against her golden skin. 

She went straight to the kitchen; above the old refrigerator that didn't work was her stash. She reached for the expensive little bottle of Bourbon and uncapped it. She took three large gulps, letting it burn down her throat and into her stomach. You'd think that after doing this for god knows how many years you'd get used to the taste, but she still pulled a face at the bitter taste burning her tongue.

_She drank so hard   
The bottle ached and she tried   
But nothin's clear in a bar full a flies   
So she takes   
She understands when she gives it away   
She says_

Capping it sloppily she placed it back with her stash. 

Running out, she told herself. 

She kicked her black boots leaving them in a heap on the floor. She walked tiredly to the back of the apartment where her shower and small bedroom lay. A creaky bed with dirty sheets lay before her, and as she walked towards he bathroom roaches scurried over the floor. She stripped off her clothes and barefooted her way to the green tiles on the grungy bathroom floor. 

She turned on the water in the shower and stepped in, letting it chill her body. The cold felt good against her warm skin—it reminded her of times past so long ago were cold met with warm and sweat...her thoughts drifted off to distant memories. 

Before she realized it, she was almost asleep in the shower. She shook her thoughts away and turned the tap off, climbing out she slumped onto her bed, wet and naked. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She remembered the past as if it were yesterday. The first time they made love. They had fucked many times but this time it was special — real.

_She ran around the house making sure everything was ready. The table looked impeccable, candles, wine, blood. Perfect._

_Soft music playing in the background, the soft glow of the room shinning off her bare golden shoulders. _

_Only one thing was missing. The man...well, the vamp. She paced anxiously back and forth in the living room. If they were going to do anything he needed to hurry up and get here. Dawn would be home from her date and she really didn't want to rush._

_The clock read 6:48 PM; he was late._

_She slumped on the dinning room chair and buried her head in her hands. _

_All the trouble that she'd gone through and he was late. Typical male, she thought._

_Before she knew it she had fallen asleep. What woke her was the soft butterfly kiss on her shoulder and the light shaking._

_"Pet?"_

_She groaned and sat up languidly. "You're late," she told him._

_He could see the daggers __dancing__ behind her groggy eyes._

_"For patrol, not this," he motioned to the decorated table and the candles that were melted and the music that had stopped playing. "What's this, Buffy?"_

_She leaned back on the chair and glared at him. "Your surprise romantic dinner."_

_His eyebrows nearly jumped off his face. "My what?"_

_"Well," she started and shrugged. "I wanted to do something different and romantic—since you never come up with anything imaginative."_

_She could see the regret forming in his face. He knelt before her and took her hands in his, staring at her in the manner that made her forget she was mad at him at all._

_"You did all this for me?"_

_"For us—lately all we do is shag on the nearest flat surface," she pouted._

_"Well..." he rubbed the back of his neck and smirked at her seductively._

_"Ok—we shag anywhere we can. I just wanted to...you know, to have a normal dinner with sex afterwards. Like normal couples do," she said and picked at the fresh nail polish on her nails._

_He took those hands and made her stand along with him._

_"You know I'll never be normal. You'll never be normal. We...can never be normal." She met his eyes._

_She nodded._

_"Can't we just pretend we are?" she ducked her head and leaned into his embrace. "Just pretend—for tonight."_

_He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her lightly back and forth. Kissing the top of her head and he whispered, "Sure,whatever you like, love. We'll just pretend."_

_She smiled and relaxed into his embrace. _

_That night they made love for the first time. _

_That night she told him she loved him._

Buffy opened her eyes and bit back a reflexive cry. Life was bad. Very bad. 

She sat up, groaning as her back protested to the bad sleeping habits of the slayer. She reached into the drawer next to her bed and pulled out a photo frame. 

With her thin pale finger she traced the contours of his face. 

The sharp cheeks and the little smirk that made her shiver and fume at the same time. The lips that softened his face and those eyes—liquid blue-gold that saw right through her. 

"What am I thinking of, baby?" she asked the frame. 

The blue sparkling orbs shone back at her. 

"You were right. I'll never be normal." she told it and quietly kissed it, smudging the glass with her tears. They mixed in with the other that had decorated the frame night after night. 

_Man I gotta get outta this town   
Man I gotta get outta this pain   
Man I gotta get outta this town   
Outta this town and out of LA_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The old LA bar/restaurant buzzed with activity as soon as the sun set. Humans of every kind chattered quickly; it was a dark place—the type of place people with too many problems came to drink their troubles away. 

So busy were they with their lives that they didn't notice a small blonde that came in. Dressed in black leather form head to toe, and smoking a cigarette. 

She made her way straight to the bar were the bartender looked at her and nodded. 

"Buffy," he greeted. 

"Teq," she returned. 

She took her usual stool and looked up at the fat man.

"Usual?" 

She nodded and he placed a glass in front of her filling it with whiskey. He took out a second glass and filled it with bourbon. 

"Thanks," she said as she gulped back a first drink. 

"I'll tell Molly to start your dinner." 

She said nothing but stared at the now empty cup before her. She was going to need a lot tonight. 

_She's gotta gun   
She got a gun she calls the lucky one   
She left a note right by the phone   
Don't leave a message   
'Cause this ain't no home and she cried_

She was lost in thought when Molly came out, her hands greasy and her apron dirty, her forehead full of sweat. "Hey there, hon!" 

"Molly, how are you?" She almost smiled at the kind woman who set the plate in front of her. 

Hot, spicy, buffalo wings and a flowering onion. 

"Oh, working to the death, sugar. How's the wrist?" 

Buffy rolled her sore wrist and showed it to Molly. "Look, almost healed." 

Molly smiled and placed the blue cheese in front of her. "Good to hear. Thanks for your help the other night.

Buffy shrugged. "Not a problem." 

The woman left and let the slayer eat in peace. She occasionally got a refill on one of her drinks. 

Before she knew it, her onion and wings were gone. She had eaten them all. 

Standing up on her stool she motioned for Teq. 

The man waved his hand and shook his head. "On the house." 

She nodded and made her way out of the place she liked to call her dinning room. 

As she walked outside, past an alley in the back, she heard a grunt and a scream. 

Her instincts kicked in and she ran towards the noise. 

The vampire never knew what hit him. One minute he was biting down on the woman's neck and the next he was dust on the ground, leaving a shivering, shocked woman behind. 

"Oh my god! Thank you!" She cried out. 

Buffy shrugged and tucked her stake back into her pocket. "It's nothing." 

Silently she walked out of the alley and to point A. 

_She cried so long her tears ran dry   
Then she laughed   
'Cause she knew she was never comin' back   
She said_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Benny moved fast on the balls of his feet; he paced back and forth, back and forth. 

She was late. The little nervous guy puffed smoke after smoke of his cigarette, looking down the alley and up the docks. 

He was such a dead man, well a dead demon. But that didn't matter. Dead was dead. 

So he yelped when he turned for another round of pacing and found her inches away form his long nose. 

Her eyes cold and dead and a smirk on her lips were she hung a cigarette loosely. 

"You scared the bejesus out of me, slayer!" 

Buffy smirked and moved to lean back against a wooden pole. 

"Learned from the best," she answered and puffed her cigarette. 

"To lurk?" 

_"Bell. Neck. Look into it." She told him, more to calm the nerves that were suddenly jumping. She wanted to mask her speeding heart rate at the scent of his leather coat._

_"Come with a nice leather collar, does it?" He did that thing with his head again_—_that thing that made her want to smile._

_She shrugged her feelings aside and concentrated on conversation. Conversation was of the good. "What are you doing lurking down here?" He always lurked, popping up in places she least expected._

_He sighed and she pretended not to care about his explanation. "Came through the tunnels." He held up a root that looked suspiciously like algae. "Running low on burba weed. Stir it in with the blood. Makes it all hot 'n spicy." Ok_—_that was gross, but cute in a way. Cringing was better than showing the cuteness of it all._

"Earth to hot-blonde-slayer!" 

The blonde shook herself off her memories and turned old eyes to glare at the man. 

"Babes, you just left me for about three minutes straight. Where'd ya go?" 

Buffy stood straight and stalked up to the man. 

"You been drinking, slayer?" She grabbed his throat and slammed him up against the light post. "Cause you know the boss, hates it." he choked out. 

"I drink all the time—whenever I please, I do what I like. Got it, monkey boy?" 

"Yessss," the man hissed and his eyes went completely black. 

She smiled and dropped him. 

"Now. The instructions." 

He landed on his knees and tried to regain his breath. "Jesus, woman—cut a fella' a break, I was only..." 

A slap landed on his face and he looked up surprised. "Your mouth is moving, yet I hear no information for me." 

The demon nodded quickly. "Right, ok, see here's the deal. There's a shipment arriving at the west doc on the west side of town—by the pier." 

She nodded and lit another cigarette. "I know the one." 

"Ok—so there's this man called Piro, he's a Greek motherfucker with too much dough, made it off pearls he stole from one of the boss' associates. Not of the good. So the boss wants you to take him out. Clean. Just him." 

Buffy nodded and started to walk away. "Hey slayer!" 

The small blonde girl turned around. 

"He's human." 

He studied her statement for a bit. 

_She looked at the dark woman in shock. "Getting rid of the evidence doesn't make the problem go away." _

_Faith looked at her. "It does for me."_

_She was trembling with worry, she could feel her limbs shaking. " Faith, you don't get it. You _**_killed_**_ a man." She felt sick to her stomach; it was turning inside out and doing little flips._

_The woman met her gaze. "No, _**_you_**_ don't get it." She smiled daringly. "I don't care!"_

_She turned away to tend to her things. And all the blonde slayer could do was stare at her in disbelief._

"I don't care," she replied and walked away. 

Benny watched her walk away and shook his head. Slayers were bitchy, dangerous women. He shuddered. 

_It's all she loves   
It's all she hates   
It's all too much for her to take_   
_She can't be sure just where it ends or   
Where the good life begins   
So she took a train   
To a little old town without a name_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Passing the dark streets of this dark town that smelled of old blood and sticky beer. 

She dug into her coat for another cigarette and pulled it out and lit it. She needed a drink. Something strong. 

There was another bar up the street—she'd been there a couple of times. It was a demon bar but they knew better than to mess with her. Especially on a Tuesday night. 

She could hear the distant laughter of whores that danced to invisible music that only they could hear. 

Entering the bar she ignored the glares she received from some of the demons. Glaring was all they would do, at least tonight. 

She walked up to the bar where a tall female was wearing a maroon bustier, her chest about to pop out of her lace and velvet. 

"What can I get for you, darlin'?" The woman asked. Buffy could see she wanted to flirt and all she could do was roll her eyes. She'd had enough of bitches that never got the concept that she was straight. 

"Whiskey," she murmured and slapped a bill on the counter. 

The girl flashed her a disappointed look and turned to get her the dark liquid. 

_She met a man he took her in   
  
But fed her all the same bullshit again   
  
'Cause he lied __  
He lied like a salesman sellin' flies   
So she screamed   
It's a different place   
But the same old thing_

She could hear the sad song playing in the background. She hated this song. It was so damn depressing. Why did the girl go back to LA? 

_"Caus__e you crave it..." Spike's long ago voice filtered to her thoughts._

Grabbing the cup set before her she submerged herself in painful thoughts before heading out for the kill. 

Spike had died five months and thirteen days after they first...had sex. He and Dawn had died at the same time. It was at that very moment that Buffy felt her last flicker of life.

She nervously picked the skin on the side of her nails, pulling back more than was recommended. Blood seeped around her fingertips. He wouldn't have thought it sexy. 

She and Spike had been happy—or as happy as they could be for about three months. The first three months before that had been a blur of fucking and denial. Stolen kisses in the alleys and make-out sessions on patrol. 

Those were the good ol' days. 

_It's all I love   
It's all I hate   
It's all too much for me to take   
I can't be sure where it begins or   
If the good life lies within   
So she said_

She twirled the liquid in her cup a couple of times watching it paint the dirty cup with it's bitter taste. 

She gulped it down—drowned in it. 

_She was upset with him. More than she had ever been. "What's going on?" _

_He looked her over, a look that made her skin crawl. "Simple. I'm gonna prove something." He moved closer to her. "I love you." _

_She closed her eyes and grimaced in disgust. This was so not happening to her._

_"Oh my god." She groaned. _

_"No, look at me!" He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him—but she couldn't meet his eyes. They were burning prism fire that made her body respond—and definitely not in a good way. "I ... love you." She jerked her chin away form his grasp. "You're all I bloody think about. Dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you, Summers, I'm drowning in you."_

Memories were bitches. Nasty, snarky bitches that came out of nowhere and into somewhere. 

She motioned for another drink and took out another bill. It was worn and dirty but it was money, wasn't it? 

The female took it gave Buffy another glare. The slayer didn't bother to answer it. 

She was again lost in times so long ago—those good old days. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

The deep English voice rushed over her and she wondered if she was having a hallucination. The hairs in the back of her neck did that thing that they do when something's wrong. 

She took a deep breath and turned to look at the man. 

There he stood. Dressed in a black fisherman turtleneck, his hair was brown but she knew that face like she knew her own. Ok, so she hadn't see it in decades but she knew it. It was her mate. 

All she could do was stare and gape, he smiled at her. 

"Spike?" 

_Man I gotta get out of this town   
Yeah now I gotta get back on that train   
Man I gotta get out of this town   
I'm outta my pain   
So I'm goin' back to LA_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"_Listen to the voice of my loved one! See, he's coming!"_ Song of Solomon 2:8

TBC..... 


	2. Shadows of Me

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics by Sarah McLaughlin, Building A Mystery. 

Spoilers: "Smashed" Season 6 

Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. 

Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine. 

Feedback: Please! bih80@yahoo.com 

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to my Betas Allison, Ophelia and Hilary;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_You come out at night  
That's when the energy comes  
And the dark side's light  
And the vampires roam_

He caught her before she could fall, her jelly knees gave out and strong familiar arms wrapped around her but all she could do was stare. Stare at that face, those eyes, that mouth, that nose, that chin, those eyebrows. 

Either she was completely gone and she needed help, or she should cut down on her drinks. 

"Well, I've always wanted to have that effect on a beautiful woman," he said and chuckled and he easily picked her up and sat her on a nearby stool. 

The small blonde girl was just staring at him, large beautiful hazel eyes studying him like there was no tomorrow. 

"Hey, not that I don't mind, but with the staring—make it stop, luv," he said as he sat across from her. 

She gaped at him and before she knew it she literally jumped on top of him, sobbing and kissing him. 

She held him so tight that he yelped when her strong arms cracked two ribs. Pain laced through him as he tried to get her off him. 

"God, Spike—I've missed you, baby, I've missed you so much. How did you do it? Never mind, all it matters is that we're together." 

She heard him yelp and heard the clear cracking of the bones. 

He was human. 

He gasped and pulled back. "You're human." She stated. 

The man glared at her. "Yes, I'm bloody human, sodding ell—what you get for trying to buy a girl a drink." 

She studied him more carefully as tears began to flow down her cheeks. "You're not Spike." 

The man winced as he stood up. "I think I need a doctor." 

She realized what she had done. "Oh my god—I'm so sorry!" She looked around the bar wildly—the patrons glaring at her along with the female bartender. "I've gotta go." 

She ran out of the bar in full speed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

_You strut your rasta wear  
And your suicide poem  
And a cross from a faith  
That died before Jesus came  
You're building a mystery_

She ran as if demons were following her, she ran like all that she had left depended on it. She ran so hard she lost herself somewhere. Lost behind black alleys that stunk of filth—dark and dirty alleys that she loathed yet loved. 

"Hey!" 

She could hear his voice far away, that same ghostly haunting voice that made itself carnal before her eyes. 

"No—you're dead, you're deadI saw you die," she whispered to the wind. 

_They had literally seven seconds from the time the portal was opened until it had to be closed—if kept opened for longer they would all die. _

_She battled the minion before her, kicking it in the head and sending it against the wall of the underground tunnel. _

_"It's opening!" She could hear Anya screaming. _

_This wasn't supposed to happen—they had to prevent the opening, if it opened it meant _

_She had seven seconds. _

_Seven seconds to see her life disappear_. 

_She turned to where she knew he would be. He knew she would turn. _

_Their eyes met and through them flowed unspeakable words. Words that spell regret and love and passion and all the times she wished she could hold in a glass capsule and live them over and over. _

_She saw the words form in his lips as he grabbed the orb in front of him. That orb that would burn him to the core—the killer orb that would turn him to ashes. _

_Dust to dust. _

_"I love you." _

_She saw the words form in his lips and then all she saw was light. Bright green light that blinded them and they all fell to the ground except that slayer. _

_She screamed. _

_"NO!" _

_Her gut seemed to come forth as she screamed—this was all her emotion, all her life—that building energy within her wanted to take those seconds back and re-live them. _

_She hadn't realized she has been screaming and crying and running to where his ashes lay. _

_Slumping herself on the ground and bathing herself with the fallen black soot. _

_"No, no, no, no" the words evolved in her lips and became mindless babble in her tongue. _

_It was three days later that she realized he was gone. Spike was dead. Her lover was not coming back. _

_She ran away that night._

"Hey! Wait up!" 

She looked up wildly and there he was. A shadow of her pain—that black malignity that made her what she was now. 

She shook her head and stepped back. "You're dead" 

She backed up until she hit the hard brick wall and slumped down to the floor. 

"Hey! Justcalm down, pet, no need to panic." He stopped and raised his hands to try to calm her down. 

"Stop!" She screamed. He took a deep breath. 

"Look, pet, I'm stopping..." 

"Stop talking like that!" she cried and buried her face in her hands her small body shaking and rocking back and forth. 

"I..." 

He watched her for a while; she had stopped crying but was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wild and hollow, the thinness of her showing through her hollow cheekbones. 

He cautiously approached her, squatting before her. 

"I didn't mean to get you upset." 

She looked up to that face she knew so well--face that hunted her in dreams and face that she still loved. 

"Who sent you?" she asked coldly. 

The man was taken back. "What...listen, I just wanted to buy you a drink. Then you come and throw yourself at me, calling me Spike, breaking my ribs..." 

"Who sent you?" Green eyes demanded and he could feel the power flowing out of her. 

"No one. Here on my own--in LA that is." 

She starred at him for sometime almost trying to read him and almost trying to lie to herself into thinking that this was her Spike. 

But it wasn't him. He didn't have the swagger, the look, that mischievous naughty grin of his. This was not her Spike. 

"I need to go." She whispered. 

He nodded and watched her stand. He winced as his cracked ribs rubbed against each other. 

"Ah, could you point me in the direction of a hospital?" 

Buffy studied him. "I'm sorry about your ribs. Wrap them up, they should hear in about four weeks." 

"I could have internal damage." He protested. 

She rolled her eyes. 

_"Take it off," she told him, glaring at him._

_"Listen slayer, I don't need you to look out for me." Spike protested, but the small blonde slayer reached out and basically ripped his shirt off._

_He arched his eyebrow at her. "Like it rough, don't you. Well I knew that already."_

_She placed her hands on her hips and starred at him. "Do you have to have a sexual comment for everything?"_

_He moved up to her. "I think it gets you all hot and bothered."_

_She placed her small hot hands against his chest and pushed him back. He yelped as the broken ribs poked him internally._

_"We agreed to stay friends--remember?"_

_He glared at her._

_"Fine, get on with it."_

_"Sit down--facing the wall. This cut back here is really nasty."_

_He obeyed, sitting on his bed, facing the crypt wall._

_She gently pressed the alcohol soaked cotton against the open wound on his back making him wince. If you didn't insist on following me around--this wouldn't happen." she murmured._

_He gritted his teeth together and glared at her over his shoulder._

_She continued cleaning his wound and then moved in front of him to wrap his chest with the long strong gauze._

_"Lift your arms," she said quietly._

_He complied and she reached around him to wrap him up. He could smell the shampoo of her hair and the soft musk of her perfume._

_It was taking all his energies to keep himself from grabbing her and crushing his lips against hers._

_She was also feeling the nearness, the cool firm skin of his chest and all those bruises she wanted to kiss away._

_She tied the gauze's end together on the side and patted his wrapped chest smooth._

_"There--all done," she said._

_He watched her and she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his chest._

_"Buffy..."_

_"Thank you," she said softly._

_He grabbed her hands and rubbed them--making the cold of her fingers go away._

_"Spike, I..."_

_He placed his finger against her parted lips and their eyes met. "Friends, remember?"_

"You don't have internal damage," she told the man before her. 

He arched an eyebrow and looked at her. "And how would you know that? Are you a doctor?" 

She took out a cigarette and lit it, trying to control her nerves. "You ran after me, squatted down and stood back up. If your lungs had been punctured you would be spitting blood, if you had internal damage you would be crying, plus--I only put three pounds of pressure on you which means you have a splintered bone--not a cracked one. Go home--wrap it up." 

_You're building a mystery  
You live in a church  
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls_  
_And you won't give up the search  
For the ghosts in the halls_

She turned to walk out of the alley, blonde hair blowing lightly in the wind. 

"Hey!" 

She groaned. 

The man that looked like William the Bloody walked up to her, smiling. "You see that's really impressive, luv--aside from your amazing strength and your emotional problems you're really something else." 

She eyed him carefully. "What do you call yourself?" 

"Huh?" 

"A name--a name you call yourself, do you have one or should I make one up for you?" 

He smirked at her sarcasm. 

"I think you already did that." 

She glared at him and turned to walk the opposite direction. 

She could feel him next to her--like a leech. 

"Hey, I was kiddin', luv. Just wanted to make conversation. Don't be so hard on a bloke." 

She stopped and glared at him. 

"I still have a long night ahead of me, I still need to get drunk and I've gotta be home before the crack of dawn," she said quickly. 

He eyed her up and down. "Didn't peg you for a partier." 

"There are other things to do than Bronze all night." 

"Bronze?" 

"Never mind—nice meeting you." 

He watched her leave. "Rocco." 

She turned around. "What?" 

"Rocco, my name is Rocco." 

_Lying in bed here was wonderful. His chest against her bare back, if she felt hot during the night all she had to do was touch him and the coolness of his skin would burn right through her._

_His arms tightened around her waist and he placed a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder._

_"What are you thinking of?"_

_She smiled and turned to look at him. "How I feel like I've gotten my life back."_

_He gave her one of those smiles that he reserved specially for her and Dawn and pecked her lightly on her lips._

_"Same here." He whispered._

_"Tell me something you've done that I don't know about—but something bloodless and gutless."_

_She could feel him smirking behind her._   
  
_"Something recently?"_

_"Doesn't matter." She answered and brought one of his hands to her lips and kissed it._

_"Ok—wellnow promise not to be mad."_

_She giggled. "I promise."_

_"Wellright after your mum died, I went over to her grave to say my condolences since I knew I wouldn't be invitedhad to say good-bye on my own."_

_She turned to look at him. She starred at him for some time. "I'm sorry."_

_He shook his head. "You had every right to be angry—I see that now."_

_She ran her hand down his sharp cheekbones. "So what happened?"_

_He took one of those unneeded breaths that she thought funny. "Well I ran into the Nibblet doing some type of mumbo-jumbo on top of mum's grave."_

_Buffy sighed. "At least she wasn't alone. I thought she was over at Willow's."_

_"Well she was all intent on bringing zombie-mommy back that I told her I could help er." He could feel her glaring at him but he decided that this had to come out. "I took er to this demon bloke I knewhe ended up being the bastard that fucked everything up."_

_She could feel him getting tense and angry and she placed her small hand on his chest. "Spikecalm down."_

_He placed his larger hand over her smaller one and squeezed in appreciation._

_"Should've know that demon was twisted, he even said I he knew me from somewhere—called me Rocco."_

_"Rocco?"_

_He looked down at her. "Told you he was weird and off—said I had different hair color, liked Dominos and was human."_

_"A human you with brown hair," Buffy mused._

_He arched his eyebrow at her. "Would you follow tail after the pansy?"_

_"Well" she started playfully. "I do like Dominos."_

_He playfully growled and attacked her middle section with his fingers. She squealed and thrashed in bed. "_

_"No, Roccostop!" She laughed until she turned red._

_He paused to stare at her flushed face. "Rocco, eh?" he attacked her again._

_In the other room Dawn sighed and smiled, taking her earphones from her night table._

Rocco had no idea what hit him. One moment he thought he might be getting somewhere with the blonde the next she had backhanded him hard and was now pinning him against the alley wall, by the shoulders. 

Her fiery green eyes were wild with rage. He could only stutter and plead. 

"Who the fuck sent you?" She hissed. 

"I. just" he stuttered on. "buy you a drink" 

She pounded him against the wall again. "Stop with the pick up bullshit!" 

"What do you want me to say? I saw you at the bar, you looked lonely, you looked good, I wanted to ask you outwhat's wrong with that?" He cried. 

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and he winced as his ribs rubbed against each other. "Really?" 

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, that's all! 

She cocked her to the side and studied him. "No twenty-something male human goes to a demon bar to pick up a girl who looks too lonely for his own comfort, who lets her breaks his ribs and have her all over him, calling him a different name. Then runs out of the bar into the night, follows her and still asks her out, broken ribs, tears and all. And to top it all your name is Rocco." 

"Well, I'm not crazy about Rocco either, but my mother named meit was post-revolution." 

She smiled. "Tell whoever you're working for that I'm not afraid of them or whoever wears the pants in your company." 

"What? What the bloody ell are you talking bout?" 

"And drop the phony accent, and the William the Bloody looks—do you think I was born yesterday?" She pressed him harder into the wall. "Do you think I wouldn't know?" 

Rocco stared back at her blankly and confused, she met his eyes—something she hadn't done in almost fifty years. 

She let him go abruptly. "You're not working with anyone?" She asked confused. 

Rocco straightened out his turtleneck and glared back at her. "Like I said, just wanted to buy a pretty girl a drink'." 

"We've started out in seven different bad feet. Why don't you go your way and I go mine?" she asked him quietly. 

He looked up and the whole visage of the strong proud woman had dropped. 

"Hey," he said softly. "No biggie—we can still do that drink." 

She chuckled and shook her head, looking back up at him. "You don't give up, do you?" 

"Not really—not when I've lived for twenty-six years and never met a girl like you. Beats you up the day you met her and showers you with kisses." 

She looked back down and picked the fuss in her coat. "Sorry about thatlike I said, I thought you were someone else." 

He clutched his mid section that was screaming in pain. "Should I be worried about the other guy?" 

Buffy looked up to him quickly and started to walk away. "This is when we say goodbye." 

She turned and started walking out. 

"Touchy subject, I see." 

She looked at him over shoulder. "And you'd do good to let it be." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`` 

_You wear sandals in the snow  
And a smile that won't wash away  
Can you look out the window  
Without your shadow getting in the way  
Oh you're so beautiful_

The docks were cold with the fall whether that clashed over the coast. 

Fine California morning, the 3am fog was filling up the land making the trees still and the air thicken. 

The boat had arrived about half an hour ago, everything had been quiet for fear of alarming the local Coast Guard. 

The entire dock was silent until the long limousine came driving up the pebble pathway. Tinted windows and slow menacing speed accompanied the long black car. 

As it stopped in front of the entrance of the dock house, men started filtering out. Coming out from the boat, the boathouse, and exiting the car. 

They talked business, and exchanged business-like' exchanges, pretending to care about each other's wives, business, and kids. 

They didn't notice the crouching shadow behind the bushes, next to the car. 

The shadow studied them and locked its view on the man dressed in the fine Armani silk suit. The one who was surrounded by all of the men—jumping to his commands. 

Buffy watched them, she knew they were talking in Greek, she'd been there for a couple of years. She understood the basic language—she was never the one to learn more than what was necessary. 

She took out her Sniper kit that she carried in the small book-bag. She was almost grateful that they weren't as long and heavy as they used to be---she remembered when she used to carry a suitcase. It was in her starting days—days she was glad she was over with. She no longer needed to prove herself, they knew who she was. 

She assembled the weapon and held it daftly in her shoulder. She targeted it to the black-suited man, the head—it never failed, plus it was bloodier. 

Finger on the trigger, eyes on his head, entire body silent, anticipation running through her veins. 

"Hey!" 

She literally jumped, grabbed Rocco's mouth and held him until her was still and completely quiet. She was hardly breathing. 

"I heard a sound over here, check it out." She heard them say. 

"The place is clean—me and my boys made sure of that." 

"Check it out again—don't want no stinker mucking it up, yu' hear?" 

"Yeah, boss. C'mon boys—bring the flashlights and dogs." 

Buffy turned Rocco to face her. His eyes were wild with fright. She motioned him to be quiet, taking her gun she pointed to the path they came from. 

Crawl' she mouthed. 

He nodded and started to crawl out, the slayer in tow. 

They were getting away—she could hear their voices and sniffing dogs further away. 

That was until Rocco placed his hand down something slimy. Something cold andlong. 

His eyes went wide when he saw it was a snakea snake that hissed and bore it's fangs to him. 

He screamed and jumped up. 

Buffy quickly grabbed him and pulled him down before bullets started to shower them. Taking out her jungle knife that she carried on her boot and sliced the snake's head off, leaving a shaking Rocco behind. 

Then she turned to look at the direction of the bullets—they were coming in fast, shouting in Greek and not in pretty colors. 

She turned to look at Rocco and shook him out of his trance. "Run!" 

They both reacted at the same time, jumping up and running for dear life—well she was more dragging him since he was clutching his ribs and literally shaking form head to toe as they dodged bullets. 

Over the road, and through trees, and over small puddles and broken twigs. 

The men ran after them until they were in the outskirts of the town. Buffy dragged the hurt man into a packed bar that was playing some seriously hard rock music. Bodies were jumping, sweat pouring, beers clinking. 

Perfect place to hide. 

She took him to the dance floor and pressed their bodies together. She could see that Rocco was more than confused. 

"Just blend in." She hissed at him. 

The men in suits and guns came barging into the club and looked around. 

She pressed her face into his neck and his arms went around her. 

"This is not coping a feel." 

He nodded and held her tighter, ignoring her warning. 

_With an edge and a charm  
But so careful  
When I'm in your arms  
'Cause you're working  
Building a mystery_

She watched the men look around the club, grab a couple of couples before giving up and walking out. 

She let out a sigh of relief then pulled herself from Rocco's embrace, glaring at him. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You could've gotten yourself killed!" 

"I didn't know you were an assassin!" 

She placed her hands on her hips. "I am not an assassin!" She screamed over the music. 

"Then why the hell were you trying to kill that man?" He yelled back her. 

He could see the blood rushing to her cheeks, and her eyes narrowing. 

She turned and walked out. Rocco watched her go and sighed. "Why does she keep doing that?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

_Holding on and holding it in  
Yeah you're working  
Building a mystery  
And choosing so carefully  
You woke up screaming along  
A prayer from your secret god_

Buffy looked around making sure the goons were really gone, she was relieved to see that they were. She eyed over a motorcycle, it was there—no attendantall alone. 

_"I am not ridding that bike," she told him._

_"What? You've ridden it before, pet," Spike as he mounted his bike._

_She glared at him. "I was drunk and not thinking straight."_

_He smiled. "You seem to do that a lot around me, don't you?"_

_"Get drunk?" She asked._

_"No, think straight," He said and turned on the bike. "Get on or you walk homeby yourself."_

_Buffy thought quickly. She had decided to keep her distance from him since theincident in that old crumbled house._

_Her legs made her decision as she jumped on and held on to him._

_He smiled and placed his hand over her clasp ones on his waist. "Hold on, baby."_

_"I though you were taking me home!" she protested._

_"I ambut let's have some fun first."_

_The bike sped off and she shrieked as he took a sharp turn, almost dipping them to the ground._

_She could hear the rumbles of his chuckles as she held on and decided not to look by burying her head on his back._

_"Enjoy the ride, Summers," He told her and she tentatively lifted her head._

_She asked herself how long she had been hiding, cause she recognized where they were. By that lake in the outskirts. The full moon shone above, sparkling its glow to the glassy lake. The breeze was soft and cool, making her lean further into him._

_"It's beautiful!" She exclaimed. He smiled as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it._   
  
_This was not bad, not bad at all. Here, ridding with the man shewas involved with?_

_"You should let me show you a little fun once in a while."_

_She glared at the back of his head. "Last time you said that I puked my insides out."_

_He chuckled again. "Nothin' like a barfing slayer."_

_"I hate you," she hissed._

_"Yeah—whatever you say, Buffy."_

She pushed those memories to the back of her head and climbed on the bike, expertly crossing the wires until she heard the loud motor and the tremble between her thighs. 

The last thing she expected was a body, much like that one she had loved so long ago, climb behind her and urge her to go. 

"Bitch, that's my bike!" 

Rocco's arms went around her as she sped off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

_You feed off our fears  
And hold back your tears  
Give us a tantrum  
And a know it all grin  
Just when we need one  
When the evening's thin  
Oh you're a beautiful_

She stopped the bike in front of her apartment building, leaving it on the curb to catch the morning rays. 

"Why do you keep doing that?" She asked Rocco as he dismounted the bike. 

He was still holding on to his midsection. She sighed. 

"C'mon—bet you've never broken ribs before." 

She didn't pause for him to answer, instead she jogged to the fourth floor and took out her card. He was trailing behind and got there when she went into her small, unfurnished apartment. 

"This is your place?" he asked. 

She lit a cigarette after she had shed her coat. "For now—yeah." 

He looked around, one sofa, one small TV, one glass table that held the lamp and her keys. 

He watched as she walked to the kitchen, letting her hair down. From the bun he had seen her in all night to the long—waist length mass of gold waves. He gulped as he finally saw the figure that lay under the bulky coat. 

Her back was bare—she wore a tube top, leather, with leather pants and spiked boots. 

Deadly in black. 

"Wanna drink?" She called from the kitchen. He painfully shed his coat then sat on the worn out couch. 

"Yeah—scotch if you got any." 

"Sure," she answered and soon was coming back with two styrofoam cups filled with dark liquid. 

He eyed them. "Thanks." 

"Let me get my kit—try to take off your shirt." 

Again he watched her leave, admiring the curve of her thin hips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

_A beautiful f***ed up man  
You're setting up your  
Razor wire shrine  
'Cause you're working  
Building a mystery_

Buffy looked over the contents of her supply cabinet quickly. 

There would be nights were she had to hold a stake between her teeth as she pulled bullets form her scared body, or times when she had had to pop her bones back into place. 

She grabbed what she thought useful and closed the cabinet, placing the mirror right on her face. 

_"Doesn't it sadden you that you can't see yourself?"_

_Buffy was hearing the conversation of her little sister and her boyfriend in the bathroom._

_Spike shrugged. "After a hundred years it becomes miscellaneous."_

_Dawn frowned. "How do you get your hair done—or get dressed. Is that why you wear the same outfit all the time?"_

_Buffy could hear Spike chuckling, she had no idea how he had so much patience with her._

_"Hair's easy—just slick it back," he told her as he ran the comb through his wet hair._

_"Buffy likes the bed hair look, she told me so."_

_Buffy would've screamed at her only she didn't want he presence known._   
  
_"Dawn!" he scolded. "How do you know about bed hair, bit?"_

_Buffy wanted to chuckle at Spike's parental tone._

_Dawn ran the brush down her long locks. "Well you guys scream for no particular reason in the middle of the night and the headboard hits the wall making a thumping noise, then there's the moans and the "oh Spik"_

_"Ok!"_

_Dawn was having a ball._

_Buffy was dying of embarrassment. No more fucking Spike until Dawn was at her friend's houseshe would need to stay often._

_She could hear Dawn giggling and could only imagine the embarrassment in the vampire's face._

_"Soshe said she liked the bed hair, eh?"_

She turned around and away from the mirror, taking the supplies in her hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
_Holding on and holding it in  
Yeah you're working  
Building a mystery  
And choosing so carefully  
'Cause you're working  
Building a mystery_

It had been fifty years since the last time she held his body in her hands, fifty years since she had been held by him—those cool, caring arms that comforted and challenged her—nourished her and made her live again. Was her guide when Giles was gone, was her lover in cold nights, was her friend and lending ear—he was everything at once. 

It had been almost 20,000 nights—20,000 lonely nights since the last time she has slept with a man she loved. All others since then had been fucking and slapping bodies that were too drunk for satisfaction. 

All of her lovers had the same body frame—not much taller than her, lean and well-muscled, compact sort. It gave her comfort—if she closer her eyes tight enough, if she focused her mind she could imagine it were his arms that were around her, his lips that kissed her trembling shoulders, his shoulder that she laid her head on. 

For 20,000 nights she had diluted herself into thinking that she could find him in the arms of any stranger, she believed that he lived inside of her, that it was up to her to make him real, to make those arms belong to him, to make that chest be still of human rhythm. To make them Spike. 

And now as she stood on the entrance of her living room, watching this man she had just meet but could pretend she had known him—in the ghostly faces of the past, she was not prepared at all. 

He was Spike. From his strong arms, to the curve of his back, to the taunt abdomen, the long masculine fingers, to the pale neck 

She took one big gulp and commanded her hands to stay were she told them to. She commanded her eyes not to bulge, her eyes not to roam, and her mouth not to water. 

They all disobeyed her. 

"I think I might have more than one broken rib," he said as he winced. 

She saw the dark bruises forming on his pale alabaster skin and had to hold herself from doing what she did to Spike. Kiss them away—that wouldn't have gone good. 

"Let's check," she said quietly. 

She sat next to him and her sweet smell hit him like a thousand bricks. 

She smelled of soft vanilla and musky oils. Like a wild-child. 

"Sit up straight," she said. 

He gritted his teeth but complied. 

Gentle she ran her hands down his chest and sides causing him to catch his breath at the feel of her soft hands. 

She was trembling. Instinct told her that he only had three broken ribs, but to feel that skin again was glorious. She got shaken out of her dreamland when she felt his heart pounding on his chest. 

As if scorched by fire she pulled them abruptly away and made them busy with the bandages. 

"You have three broken ribs, sorry about that," she mumbled. 

He studied her for a second. Her golden hair caressed her bare shoulders and she had scars—plenty of scars. One in her upper cheek, another in her forehead and about three of them in her arms. This girl saw many tough nights. 

"Lift your arms," she told him and he obliged. 

She was going crazy, he even smelled like Spike. She just wanted to beg him to at least pretend to be him and stay here with her, wrap her up in his arms and love herbut somewhere in the small part of her that still had a conscious she couldn't demand that from this man. He would love her and she would love a memory. 

"Done this many times, I see," Rocco commented and smiled down at her. 

Buffy shrugged and continued her task, making the skin contact less and less. 

"I've seen worst—seen worse on myself," she said and bit her lip. 

He wanted to brush the fallen strand from her face, tuck it behind her ear and tell her she didn't have to go through it alone. 

"There—all wrapped in mummy gauze," she smiled. 

"Well, she does have a sense of humor," he smirked and brought his arms down, brushing their fingers together slightly. 

She pulled quickly away. 

"I forget how to use it sometimes," she chuckled darkly. 

He watched as she took out an alcohol pad and took his face gently in her hands. He could feel the dry calluses on the palms of her hands, rubbing their rough surface against his sensitive skin. 

"How did you get this cut?" she asked him, indicating the gash above his eye—right on his eyebrow. 

"Hmm," he winced as she disinfected it. "I think it was when you pushed me on the ground to avoid getting shot." 

She dimly recognized that he was going to scarin the same place Spike had. 

"It's gonna leave a scar," she said more to herself than to him. 

Rocco smiled. "Maybe it'll give me a more thuggish look, don't you think, luv?" 

She couldn't help herself; she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. 

Rocco's blue eyes went wide as she pulled out. He took a deep breath as he looked back at her. 

"What was that for?" he asked in a shaky voice. 

She blushed and ducked her head, putting away hurt-kit', like she liked to call it. 

"For a rough night." 

He nodded and looked over at her. He wanted to do it again—do much more. This woman had brought out such life in him, and the feeling he got around her was so strong and familiar that it was killing him. 

"So are you ever going to spill who this guy, Spike is?" 

Buffy's head shot up and he could see the pain in her eyes. 

"Old flame?" 

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Old love." 

He nodded. "That's a big difference." 

"Oh yeah—the gap is alarming." 

"What happened, did he leave you? If he did I can say that he missed out on a lot," Rocco said, smiling down at her. 

"He" she looked for the right words. "He dieda long time ago." 

Rocco's mouth made the o' statement and gapped her like a fish. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. 

She nodded and gave him a sad smile. "Sorry is all we can be." 

"How did he die?—if you don't mind me asking." He asked her gently. 

Buffy picked the skin around her nail—dimly reminding herself how Spike had hated that. 

"It's ok—it was a long time agohe died saving the world, and trying to save my sister." Her eyes watered up—she had never talked about this to anyone. Not even to Xander or Willow or Tara or Giles. 

"What happened to your sister?" 

Buffy cocked her head slightly to the side. "You know—I hardly remember her, there are little moments when I can see her face, or a wind swims by and I can smell her hairbut the memories—they've been fading." 

She was crying and she didn't realize it. 

"What happened to your sister?" 

Wide green eyes looked back up at him. 

"She died—he couldn't protect herhe died trying to protect her." She whispered. 

_Holding on and holding it in  
Yeah you're working  
Building a mystery  
And choosing so carefully_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

TBC


	3. Hands of Clay

Hands of Clay--part 3 to Song of Solomon Series

by Isabelle

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics by Asia, _In the Heat of the Moment._

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. 

Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine. 

Feedback: Please!! bih80@yahoo.com

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to by Betas Allison and Ophelia ;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_"My lover spoke and said to me, "Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me." Song of Songs 2:10, The Bible_

"I met Spike when I was sixteen," she began, lighting one cigarette and offering him another. Together they sat together and smoked. 

The silence was comfortable and understanding, she looked ahead into the empty room filled with dark masses of shadows. He studied her profile, drinking her in. 

"We didn't fight the first night. He tried the intimidation angle. It didn't work. I think that's why he liked me, in the enemy sort of way." 

She took another drag and slammed back another shot of Scotch. 

"We fought many times, hurt each other with words and fists. He left bruises on me that stayed for days...I don't know when exactly he fell in love with me, long before he admitted it to himself or to me, of course, but he did." 

She ran a shaky hand through her blonde locks. "I crippled him. Left him months in a wheel chair," she laughed at the memory. "I hated him so much then, but it was a strange sorta hate, maybe I'm saying that since I'm looking at it from this angle now...but he was different, so different. There was life about Spike, he was unlike any other vampire I had ever met, even my boyfriend Angel. Where Angel was gloomy and broody, Spike was laughing up life and rollin' with the punches." 

Rocco studied the girl before him. She looked 24, but her eyes were so dark and haunted, like she had lived too many lives since then. 

"We made a truce that spring...long story short, he did it for selfish reasons. He did it for love. For the love of Drusilla. I almost envied that love. There I was fighting to kill my ex-boyfriend, and he was going against his very nature to get her back." 

Buffy sighed and took another drink. 

"I didn't see him for another year, and never thought much about him, but he's not one of those people you forget. His voice...when I heard his voice, not even looking at his face I knew immeadiately who it was. Once again we fought together — and I realized that he was the one person I couldn't lie to. At the time I thought nothing of it, but later on it mattered...it mattered a lot." 

Smoke. Blow. Sigh. 

"The next time I saw him was one of the most painful. Spike had this amazing ability to lay things out in the open. He didn't lie, he told it to you like it was. There were many time when I wished he would just shut up because the truth was too hard to bear...but at other times I wanted to thank him for making me realize things...things I would have never realized on my own." 

She took a deep breath. 

"Then things just started to get complicated. Our roles changed. He was no longer a mean killable vampire, and I wasn't the pissed-off slayer. He got a chip inserted by the US government, prevented him from hurting humans. So he was forced to go vegetarian." She chuckled as she remembered the hungry look on his face when she opened the door to him on Thanksgiving. "He was something else, made me want to kill him and hug him at the same time. True, I enjoyed seeing him all weak and pathetic. Served him right after all he had done in his long life. But everything changed the night we got engaged." 

"Engaged?" Rocco asked, quite interested. "How did you go from acceptance to engagement?" 

Buffy laughed and Rocco couldn't help but wish that she laughed more often. She was breath-taking

"Willow — my best friend, she did a spell to have her will be done and she willed us to get married." she laughed again. "It was the craziest few hours of my life. One moment I was ready to stake him the next I was all over him, kissing, biting, making cute puppy eyes at each other." she smiled remembering. "When the spell ended I was mortified, so was he, but a couple of years later he confessed he loved me then, even when I pulled away form our kiss disgusted. He loved me even then." 

He could hear her swallow thickly as the memories became more recent. 

_I never meant to be so bad to you   
One thing I said that I would never do _

"Then there was this entire year were we just traded insults, every chance we got. To be around him was to be on my tiptoes ready to fight — ready to give him my best. Little did he know then that that's what kept me alive. I didn't realize I trusted him so much until he was my only comfort, until I trusted the lives of my mother and sister to him." she stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one. "I don't know when it happened exactly but one moment he was Spike miserable in his crypt, and the next he would just appear when I least expected him and when I most needed him." 

Another thick gulp of her scotch and she was back in time fifty yearsyears to when she was not some night creature that hunted for money and lived alone in a roach-infested apartment. The time when she gave a damn. 

"When he told me he loved meit got ugly. Spike was the type of man who didn't really know how to express himself, if he wanted to do something nice he would muck it up. He made me so angry at times. In his mind he thought he was doing me a favor, but it always came out too blunt, or too real and too hard to comprehend — but not to him, to him reality should be embraced and accepted. To soulful creatures reality is something you want to hide from." She smiled and took a drag off her cigarette. "He would put his foot in his mouth so many times — and I think it was contagious, cause when I was with him the same thing happened to me. He just had this effect on mebrought out the best and worst." 

"Tragic love," Rocco commented, she turned to look at him and studied him. 

"You look just like him," she whispered. "Same face, same neck, same chest, same handsyou're him. But when I look in your eyes I know it's not him. There was a way about him, no one could impersonate him." 

_A look from you and I would fall from grace   
  
And it would wipe the smile right from my face _

"So when did you fall for Mr. Spike?" he asked taking a sip from his drink. 

The young blonde smiled. "I fell in love with him after I came back from the deadthe second time." 

"You've died?" the young man asked skeptically. 

Buffy nodded and twirled the liquid inside her Styrofoam cup. "And came backthe second time I came back immortalI came back a little less human than what I used to be." 

_"Are you sure?" Buffy asked with a trembling voice. _

_Her best friend was afraid to meet her gaze. _

_"Well, I don't know exactly what you are, but there's no doubt that you're not fully human," Willow whispered. _

_She could feel all eyes on her. Her skin prickled, and she felt nauseous. So Spike had been right, and right now he was the last one she could look at. _

_So she did what Buffy Summers always did. She ran out. _

_Out the Magic Box, down the street, past the curb and the ice cream shop, past the laundry until she got to the end of the deserted street. An alley, she could smell the alley. She now belonged in this alley. Dirty and noiseless, a sepulcher of her past life. She was doomed to a life of inhumanity, a life of fighting and survival, a life where suburbs and nine to five jobs didn't exist, a life she hated. She hated it so much she wanted to scratch her skin off until all that was left was her skeleton; the basic montage of what she was. _

_She wanted to scream she was human; she wanted to pound against the brick alley walls until her fists bled and broke. _

_She hit things, in her haze of tears and screams, in her fit of desperation. _

_She hated it, she hated them for bringing her back, she hated her sister for needing her, she hated him for discovering it, she hated this world and the puny humans in it that needed her help, that would not let her rest in peace. In that cold tomb where she was supposed to spend the rest of eternity. In that nether world were everything was perfect, where she had found her peace, where she was complete. Gone were the powers above her that commanded her to do their bidding, that had injected this slayer-spirit within her veins, that made her want to hunt and be attracted to things that were a little less human. _

_She didn't know how long she cried or how much she screamed, cursing the heavens above. All she knew is when she turned around exhausted and bleeding he was there — standing at the alley entrance, smoking a cigarette and waiting patiently for her to finish her tantrum. _

_She ran like a wild-woman and pounded her small powerful first against his hard chest, she knew it hurt him — she hit him with all her strength. She cried and cursed him, screaming, but his larger hands found hers and he held her against his chest while she sobbed. _

_And it hurt him — not the physical pain. He had felt worst but it was her heart-wrenching sobs of despair, and her feeling of solitude and desolation that battered him. _

_She felt betrayed, left alone and punished for saving this world too many times. And that he understood. _

_So without hesitation he picked her up — still sobbing and wriggling, and took her home. _

"So you got together but you didn't love him?" Rocco asked. 

Buffy shook her head and stubbed out her third cigarette. 

"I think I fell in love with him right after I came back. everything washe was so different. I mean I cared about him before I had died but it's really the little things that I started noticing afterwards. Like the fact that he cared about Dawn so much, and the fact that he was completely destroyed while I was deadand the look on his face when he saw me for the first time." She smiled. "Then he just became my confidantmy companion. But like everything in Buffy-world it got complicated. We kissedok I kissed him, but still. It changed everything." 

She took another swig and frowned when she saw her cup was empty. She went to the kitchen and brought back with her the entire bottle. 

Rocco raised his eyebrow at her. "Getting drunk with strange men, Ms. Summers?" 

Buffy smiled. "If I'm drunk enough I can pretend you're Spike" 

She stopped when she realized what she had said — his face had darkened and shadows had taken over his sharp features. 

"This is what this is all about?" he asked. "You, pretending I'm him?"

But coldness had filled her heart even more since she last remembered being human. "What's wrong, Rocco-boy? You think it'll be different? You think you can make me love someone else? Well...you're wrong. I'll fuck you here and now but I'll never love again. That's the one promise I made to myself and I intend to keep it."

Rocco looked at her for a long time, he face was expressionless and blank, and she puffed out her smoke and blew it in his face. 

"So what do you say? Would you like to go for a bit of rough and tumble?" she asked seductively, before she collapsed and passed out right on his lap.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`_

_*Dream Sequence*_

"Spike? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go away?" Buffy asked, sweaty and upset.

Spike walked around the length of her training room, looking over the weapons, touching the tip of a few blades.

"Must be nice, having everything all set up for you," he said almost quietly.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Ever since the Willow incident she had made it clear that this *thing* with Spike was not going to continue.

He turned to look at her. "You didn't patrol last night."

Buffy sighed, no matter how much she tried to push him away he was always the one she wanted to talk to when her problems became too much.

"I had Dawn problems last night," she said and regretted the words the minute they left her mouth. Once she started there was no stopping, not if Spike was playing the sympathetic ear.

_Do you remember when we used to dance   
And incidents arose from circumstance_

Spike stood behind the punching bag and she took her cue to start with the emotional outpouring. 

She began violently punching the bag.

"So she wants a tattoo, and she wants a boyfriend," she sighed and looked at him. "I wasn't this much trouble when I was her age."

Spike arched his eyebrow. "Well no, but you were risking your life nightly, not endangering clean skin cells."

"Spike!" 

He smiled at her. "Sorry, luv."

"Stop calling me, luv. It makes me feel all Drusilla-y. I hate it."

She punched the bag again and noticed that he was holding back a laugh. "What? Say it?"

Spike shook his head and dropped the bag. "You're jealous. All this time you're just jealous."

Buffy clenched her wrapped fist to her side. "I am not. I have nothing to be jealous of. You and me — nada, remember?"

Spike walked up to her seductively and Buffy tried desperately to avoid looking at his eyes. "Right, slayer."

"And don't call me 'slayer'," she muttered. This was bad. She was becoming entranced...again.

He grabbed her chin gently. "So what shall I call you?" He began kissing her ear.

"We can't," she placed her small hands on his black-clad chest. His tongue running lightly over her earlobe made her shiver. "Xander and Anya..."

"They'd be doing the same thing if they were us." he nibbled on her neck. "Hmm...you taste like vanilla, all soft and smooth and creamy."

"Oh god," she whimpered as his fingers found her nipples. 

_One thing led to another, we were young   
and we would scream together songs unsung_

"Pure, silky vanilla." he kissed her collarbone and ran his tongue right over the swell of her breast.

"OH MY GOD!"

Both Spike and Buffy jumped up in complete shock. 

"OH MY GOD!"

They turned to the door of the training room were Xander was gaping at them. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. 

"That's it!! No more spells for Willow!"

They watched in awe as Xander stomped out of the room calling for Willow.

Spike turned to look at Buffy. 

"Go," she urged him. "Maybe I can convince him that it was a hallucination."

Spike smirked at her but she could see the hurt in his eyes. She was ashamed of him. And she was...at the time.

By the time Xander came back, all hysterical and sweating Buffy was calmly punching her bag and smiled up to them. "Hey guys, what's up?"

_*End of Dream Sequence*_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`_

Buffy woke up and realized the sun was setting. She must've slept through the day. She sighed as she found herself fully clothed and sleeping in her bed.

She had many dreams last night, but one was different. She dreamt she met a man named Rocco...and he looked just like Spike.

She ran her hand through her face and rubbed her eyes, preventing the daily tears to flow. It didn't work.

She felt bad for something she had done fifty years ago. Spike's face when she hid him from her friends, even after the game had changed from lust to love.

She stood up from her creaky bed and walked to the living room.

She almost fainted.

There in her raggedy old sofa was Rocco.

But he had been a dream; she shook her head and willed it not to be real.

She walked silently up to the sleeping figure. It was like living in a dream. Spike asleep on her sofa, like every night he watched over Dawn, and she would come home from patrol and play with his hair until he woke up.

She did the same thing.

She sat next to him, making sure not to touch any of him and just stared down at the body below.

She looked down to his feet — they were bare, his boots had been removed. His toes looked the same, his left foot had three black hairs coming out off the large toe. She smiled and followed her gaze up his jean clad-thigh. Well muscled, she touched it slightly, relishing in the feel of him.

She brought her hand up to his waist were his sweater was showing just the barest hint of those abs she had loved. Tentatively she reached out and touched the skin there, smooth and.warm. That wasn't right. She frowned at the reminded that this was not Spike.

She gazed at those hands, hands that were relaxed and masculine. Pale fingers that she used to to play with. Pale white fingers that did wonders to her body. She touched those hands, hands she had cherished for such a short period of time, and she wanted those hands to hold her, touch her face, feel the coolness of them. 

She couldn't see his arms and it was a shame, she loved those arms. She wanted to kiss them and feel them — make them love her the way she remembered. 

_"I like your arms," she said as he wrapped them around her waist, spooning her against him._

_"Do you now?" he asked sleepily._

_She ran her fingers up and down his forearms. "Yup, love these arms."_

_She felt him kiss the back of her neck and nuzzle in._

_"Spike?"_

_He didn't breath but she could tell he was dead to the world. _

_She turned to look at him. He was completely gone. His long lashes shadowed his face and his lips parted slightly. She kissed his bottom lip making him mumble something about dogs in his sleep._

_She smiled and inhaled his scent._

_"I love you," she whispered._

_"Love...you...too," he mumbled._

_She bit her lip and looked up to his closed eyes. "Promise me you'll never leave?"_

_He nodded and kissed her check. "You know I'd never leave you, they'd have to kill me first."_

"You promised," she whispered as she looked to the sleeping face. 

"What?" Rocco woke up, startled but relaxed when he found the sitting slayer, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. 

She swallowed and looked down again. "He promised not to leave." 

Rocco sat up and rubbed his face, he was tired of dealing with this emotional girl...or woman. "Dying is not leaving, pet" he said and ran his hand through his brown curls. 

"He's not here, is he?" she said sullenly. 

"Listen, sugar — I'm not the best person to talk to about this. But I'm sure he'd like it if you moved on." 

_"You're mine!" Spike roared on top of her. It was almost two weeks before he died._

_Buffy smiled at him seductively from underneath. _

_"You think you own me?" she teased. _

_He closed in the space between them. "I know I own you. Just like you own me," he said kissing her lips. _

_She tugged her hips and flipped them over. Their game went both ways. It was great and she could honestly say that for the first time in her life she felt happy. _

_"You're mine," she tried her best to growl and bit him above his nipple, sending shivers down his spine. _

_"Slayer," Spike begged underneath. _

_"Ok _— _that's it. You call me slayer one more time and I'm finding another bloke to chew on." _

_He growled and flipped her again, grinding his narrow hips against hers. "Take that back." _

_Buffy covered her smile with a serious face. "I can get any guy on the block and you know it." _

_Spike stepped away from her. _

_Buffy was left confused as she watched him pick up his things from the floor. "Spike?" _

_He didn't look up and continued to shove arms into his shirt. "Look, Buffy. I thought we were over this, but obviously we're not. You're still treating it like it was a shag and go and here I am loving you...alone." _

_Buffy gaped at him. She had been joking! "Wait, Spike," she said as she stood up. _

_He looked down at her and she could see the tears forming in those pools of clear blue. _

_"Baby, I'm sorry, I was kidding." She took his face in her hands and kissed him. _

_He was rigid still but began relaxing as she continued to pepper kisses on his face. _

_She pulled him into her embrace and he held tightly. _

_"I love you, only you." she whispered and heard him sigh into her hair. _

_"No other colonial pansies that might threaten us?" She pulled back from him and looked at him. She couldn't believe that they had come this far. She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to love this much again. _

_"Nope, only this nasty brit for me," she smiled up at him and kissed him. _

"I think we were both selfish like that," she said after a long time, lost in those memories. 

"People are always selfish when they're in love," Rocco said. 

"I thought it was supposed to be the other way around?" 

"That's what the philosophers of life say. But really, think about it. When you're in love you just want to live in this perfect pink bubble and let the earth be destroyed as long as you're happy." 

Buffy took a smoke from the pack on the floor and lit it. 

"That's where you're wrong," she said. "I've killed the person I loved to save this world, I've sacrificed my life to save the sister I loved, and Spike died to save not only me and Dawn but this entire sick planet."

Rocco took a cigarette from her.

"What do you say you and me have some dinner — I don't peg you for the type of girl that likes to cook."

Buffy smiled sadly and stubbed out her smoke.

"Nope. Don't cook, I have a place I like to go to." 

Rocco nodded and grabbed his boots.

"Let me shower, " she mumbled as she padded in to her room. Rocco watched her leave in awe. There was something so familiar about her. He wanted to beg her to let go of this Spike guy. A girl like that deserved to be loved by someone living.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

"Where is she now?" 

Bennie laughed nervously as he eyed cautiously the large vampire in front of him.

"Who?"

The vampire roared loudly and grabbed Bennie by the lapels of his coat. The large creature loomed over the small trembling demon. 

"The slayer you stupid prick."

"Ahhhh, yesthe slayer — you're talking about the red head, right, cause you know there's two slayers."

He was met by a powerful backhand.

"Stop tryin' to cover for her. Why Bennie-boy?"

The small demon shook his head frantically. "I'm not. I swear boss, she probably got sidetracked. I gave her the message boss, but you know how hardheaded she can beI think she was drinkingthat mighta' been it," the small frightened demon answered.

The vampire growled and threw him on the floor.

"My boys says' that she be running away from Piro's men, findin' herself a partner." The vampire sat down. "The skinny blonde owes me big time. You get it, tuna breath?"

Bennie nodded and picked himself up. "Got it, boss. I'll hit the streets, see what I can find. She's probably drunk and fucked in some alley. You know, the same shit — never taking orders."

The vampire took out a cigar and brought it to his mouth. "You tell the slayer that if Piro's not dead in 24hours I'm coming after her, and her strength and bad attitude won't stop me.

Bennie nodded again, wiping his sweaty palms over his pants. "Sure thing boss, I'll find the slayer — I'll see what's up, give er your message."

The vampire rolled his eyes and dismissed him turning in his large leather chair to look at the two female vampires dressed in nothing but black thongs playing with themselves.

"If that little bitch don't come through she'll be rubbing herself in front of me until we both shrivel up and die."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

"Is this place safe?" Rocco asked Buffy as they stepped through the bar doors.

"Yeah, of course this is. I have my nightly plate of buffalo wings and flowering onion here. Best place in town." She said and waved to Teq.

The bartender acknowledged her presence and went to get her drinks.

"No, Teq. Tonight I'll have tequila."

Teq nodded but didn't question.

"Sure thing, Buff. Will you be eating alone?"

Buffy looked over at Rocco who was trying to sit on the bar stool without touching the greasy counter top. She smiled. He might not be Spike but he was entertaining. 

"Actually, we'll have a table tonight. Tell Maggie we'll have two of the usual, with extra sauce."

Teq arched his eyebrow at the young man who was pushing a used glass out of the way with the back of his hand.

"No problem, kiddo," he said and walked away shaking his head.

Buffy grabbed Rocco's arm and dragged him to the nearest empty table.

"How can you eat here. It can't be approved by the health board."

Buffy rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette, offering one to Rocco, which he took gratefully.

"It's crowded tonight — I like it this way, the less people that notice me the better."

Rocco looked around at the people in the bar. "Buffy, you know you're too good for this."

_She watched as he zipped his pants back up and deftly hooked his belt back on. _

_"Leaving so early?" she whispered from her bed._

_Spike sighed and looked out the window. "Sun's about to come out. Better make it out of ere before that."_

_Buffy sat up in bed; her hair flowed around her, bare shoulders glistening in the early dawn light. She looked so beautiful there; with the thin white bed sheet covering her breast slightly and her face fresh and free of makeup._

_Spike tried not to think of love thoughts while he was with her. But last nightit had felt different._

_"Listen, pet. I know the drill. You don't have to tell a bloke twice. Thisbetween you an me, I know it's not real. It belongs to the night, just like me — you're too good for this. You know it, and I know it. Why do you think I run out every morning? I know that the moment I stay it becomes real. We become real and there goes your hope of having a normal life. With a man you can love and a man who can take you out in the sun and be happy, one that can take Dawn to school when you're too tired. One you can tell your friend's bout without you being ashamed of im. You seem to need one of those, Buffy. And because I love you so damn much I'll step back and let you have im."_

_She could see the tear tracks in his cheeks. She had made him cry, she with her hiding and her insistence of just sex between them. It was eating him alive. She could feel his pain everytime he touched her. She could feel it because she had started to feel it too. This between them that was forbidden was eating her up inside, and the more she fucked him the more she realized she was making love to him. _

_"You don't have to"_

_Spike stopped her; he placed his trembling finger to his lips. "Shhh, baby. We both said it — it's better this way."_

_With that he picked up his coat and jumped out her window, ducking into the nearest sewer and out of her morning sun._

_Buffy sat on the bed for a long time watching as the sun's rays began to cover her room. They crept over her carpeted floor until they finally touched the foot of her bed._

_Then she began to cry — to cry in earnest. She buried her head in her pillow and sobbed. She sobbed for him and his pain and for her cowardice. Time and time again she was not brave enough to tell him that she finally loved him._

She exhaled her smoke and looked up at him. Clear green eyes. "I've been too good for many things, but those things have been the best times of my life," she said smiling.

Rocco nodded and thanked Teq when he brought the bottle and two shot glasses to the table.

While Rocco poured them drinks Buffy watched him intently. 

"Find something you like, slayer?" 

Buffy almost jumped. Then glared at him. "How do you know I'm a slayer?" 

Rocco chuckled and threw back his shot. 

"Seems to me you're so self-involved you invite a guy into your house and the only reason you trust im is cause he's human. I didn't peg you for an easy catch." Buffy glared at him and threw back her drink.

"So tell us your story—what is the mystery behind the guy named Rocco who looks like William the Bloody." 

Rocco smirked at her. "Now that's better. Was getting' a bit tired of listening about your Spike." 

Buffy blew out her smoke into his face, not intimidated at all. "You tagged along, remember?" 

Rocco nodded, his wavy brown hair falling on his forehead. 

"Yeah, I did." He took another drink. 

Mollie came out with their food and Buffy thanked her, happily digging in to her large plate. Rocco stared at his food in disbelief. 

"Buffalo wings?" he picked up on and danced it in front of her. "And flowering onion?" 

Buffy looked up at him, orange sauce dripping from her chin. "Yeah, so what?" she said with a mouth full. 

Rocco cringed and reached over to clean her chin. "Please don't tell me this is what you eat every night." 

She almost blushed at his attempted closeness. Spike had once teased her, calling her a pig. 

"Let me guess, Spike's favorite food." 

Buffy pulled back and stared at him. He could see the venom forming in her tongue. He knew she didn't throw her punches, she aimed to kill. 

"That's a yes," her murmured under his breath. 

"If you want to leave there's the door. No one asked you to tag along. I've got my own life, whether you like it or not. And no matter how hard you try I'll only see Spike in your face." He stared back at her not moving an inch. "Deal with it." 

Rocco stood up and nodded. "It's been an interesting night, Summers. Maybe you'll re-live it, in another fifty years." 

Buffy watched him leave and she felt her stomach turning. For the first time since she had first come to Teq's she wasn't able to finish her dinner. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

She got really drunk that night. So drunk that she got lost in her own street. She swayed and bumped into brick walls, falling on the alley floors that smelled like rat shit. She could feel through the haze in her mind the sun's coming rays. They were so close it burned right through her. So when three goons grabbed Buffy Summers and slammed her against the alley wall, violently splitting her forehead she did nothing but hand there limply. "Well, well, well, what do we have hereand alley rat. A dirty drunk rat." 

Buffy could smell Tito a mile away. Tito, the boss' underdog. He did his dirty work and bashed some heads. If Tito was sent after you, you knew you were in deep shit. 

"Tito, pleasure to see you this late at night." The large goon that was holding her there slammed her against the wall again splitting her lips. Buffy hissed and glared at the man. 

"Talk again, Summers, and I'll let Bubba ere use you for his workout." 

Buffy spit out the blood from her mouth and smiled at Tito. "I don't know what your insistence of talking all uncivilized" 

She didn't finish her sentence because Tito punched, hard and with a brass knuckle.

She fell back against the goon and he held her up while Tito finished his beating. In her stomach, her face. He hit her so much she lost count. 

The goon dropped her as she moaned and sobbed on the alley floor. 

"Boss don't like kittens who don't deliver, if Piro's not dead by tomorrow night, you know the consequences for ladies who fail to live up to their end of the deal, baby" 

Buffy rolled herself into a small ball, almost thanking that they hadn't done anything else. She wouldn't have been able to defend herself, not as drunk as she was. She just wanted to curl up and die. 

"Spike" she whispered. The pain in her body was nothing compared to the pain that was still so fresh in her heart. "PleaseI need you" 

_She thought she had it under control, but three demons happened to be too much for the small slayer, she kicked and punched and rolled but they had spines — nasty long spines with poison. _

_One scraped and it was all it took to make her see double and fall limply to the floor. The next thing she remembered was waking up in Spike's bed. She was naked and shivering. Fevered. Spike finally appeared by her side, urging her to get some rest, running his cool hand through her sweat damped hair, but all she wanted was to feel him around her, so she grabbed on to his waist and would not let him go._

_"I've got you baby, you're going to be fine. Jjust a bit of a fever, that's all," he murmured to her ear. It only made her wriggle into his embrace more and whimper. She felt terrible. When was the last time she had felt this sick. "I want my mommy," she whispered. She could feel the sadness coming from him._

_He didn't tell her that it'll be all right, he didn't say her mom would come, he didn't even mention that one day she'll feel better and accept it. All he told her was that he was here. And that was enough for her._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This time she woke up to the feel of someone picking her up. Everything hurt. Her head, her stomach, her skin felt like it was burning, until she realized she was in the sun.

The fire she had run from for years. 

Arms held her securely walking at a fast pace. She looked up to the face of her savior and there in the morning light was Spike. 

He was back! He looked down at her and frowned. "Don't worry, luv—you're almost home." 

She smiled contently and snuggled into his arms. He was back! She kissed his neck. The way she knew he loved, and buried her head there. "I love you."

Rocco stared down at the girl in his arms. He shook his head. She had confused him yet again with her dead love. The moment he thougt he had figured her out she gets herself so beat up she couldn't walk. 

He took her to her apartment and laid her down on her bed. She woke up as soon as she touched the mattress. 

"Spike?" she was sure she hadn't imagined him. 

"Buffy?" 

Buffy sat up and looked at where the voice came from. She frowned. It was Rocco. 

"What happened?" she asked, lying back down and touching her sore forehead. 

"Well..." Rocco started, taking a seat beside her on her bed and placing the antiseptic on the night table. "I would say, pet that you got beat up. Does this happen often?" 

Buffy closed her eyes and wished for a cigarette. "When I don't do what I'm supposed to do." 

Rocco shook his head and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. 

"Lay still, this might hurt, luv," he murmured and Buffy shut her eyes. 

_"Get. Away. From. Me." she growled._

_Spike looked at her and took a deep unnecessary breath. "Listen to me, luv--I need to do it. _

_Unless you want to go to the hospital and explain to them why you have a dislocated hip."_

_Buffy glared at him from her sideways position on the bed._

_"I can do it."_

_"You can break it--then it'll be worse. This will just hurt like a bitch for a few hours and you can sleep though them," he tried, inching closer to her._

_"You're not coming near me!"_

_"You're scaring 'bit!" he growled. "Where's your spine, Slayer?"_

_Buffy pouted out her lip. "I hate you."_

_Spike exhaled, knowing he had won. He walked over and got one of her stakes. "Bite down on this."_

_Buffy whimpered as she shifted on the bed. "Baby, don't move," he said gently._

_"Make it quick. The faster I pass out the better."_

_Spike stuck the stake between her teeth and rubbed his hand soothingly over her head. She met his eyes and nodded. Spike ran his firm hand up her leg and Buffy shut her eyes tightly._

_Finding the bone Spike continued to roam his hands, getting her relaxed. When she least expected it he pulled harshly. She screamed and snapped the stake in two between her teeth._

_Spike ignored her thrashing and made sure the bone was right. She was crying now. "There, there, baby--all done," he murmured._

_He lay back down on the bed next to her and pulled her to him._

_"I hate this," she whimpered. "We go out to have a semi-normal night and we get attacked by werewolves. Big ones."_

_He kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hand on the small of her back. "Go to sleep, once you get better we'll try again."_

"Almost done," Rocco whispered. Buffy had been too lost in the memories of that painful night to notice that Rocco had cleaned her wounds. 

"Thanks," she whispered back to him. 

He stopped wrapping her fingers and looked up at her. "What I don't understand is why such a beautiful and strong woman is doing in a place like this?" 

Buffy pulled her hand from his and tried to reach other to her pack of cigarette's on the table but hissed and lay back as her broken and bruised ribs rubbed against each other. 

"Let me get it," Rocco said and opened the top drawer of her table. By the pack of cigarettes was an upside down frame. 

He reached in and grabbed it. Buffy noticed and snatched it from him.

"Mine," she growled. 

Rocco was startled. "I know! Just wanted to see it, pet." 

Buffy considered him. She looked down at the frame in her hand and lifted it to see Spike's long dead face. 

"I took this about a month before he died. We went for a weekend to this resort. He said we needed sex time. But we had the best time." 

Rocco took the 8x10 frame from her and nearly fell off the bed when he saw the picture. 

"Oh my god!" 

"What?" Buffy asked confused.

"That's me! He's me!" Rocco said, eyes wide and mouth gaping. 

Buffy sighed. "I told you. Didn't I tell you?" 

"Yeah, but I though you were just crazy! And why is his hair bleached? He looks like an albino!" 

Buffy glared at him. "He does not!" 

"Does too! And what's with the punk look?" 

Buffy snatched the frame from him and traced Spike's face with her beaten fingers. "He was perfect." 

Rocco watched her. "I'm...sorry." 

"He wasn't something big--you know? He wasn't seeking redemption. But he got it. He got it through a little girl and her bitch of a sister." Buffy sighed and replaced the photo, ignoring the ache in her ribs. "He was simple. Lived in a crypt until I made him move into my home. Had two pairs of jeans, three t-shirts, his boots and a black coat. He did have some colorful shirts around but he mostly dressed black on black."

"Is that why you wear mostly black?"

Buffy placed a fag between her lips and lit it. "Anything that reminds me of him is good." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

"Boss?" 

The vampire turned annoyed at the sound of the intruder. 

"What now?" 

"We found the slayer and let 'er have it real good." Tito smiled. 

The vampire nodded and continued to watch the female vampires dance. 

"And the man she was with?" 

Tito walked up to the elder and handed him a picture. It was Buffy and Rocco dancing, trying to blend in with the crowd. 

"Seems William the Bloody is back," Tito commented. 

"Spike was a traitor to his kind. Died all noble for humanity." 

Tito looked over the picture again. "Wasn't the slayer in love with the vampire?" 

The vampire nodded and looked up to him. "You think the bitch brought him back? Now they're working together?" 

Tito shrugged. "Hard to say boss, but there ain't no doubt that that is Spike." 

The boss smiled. "Well, I like this twist. But it could get old real fast." He took the picture of the dancing couple and burned it with his cigar. "Kill 'im. Never seen a slayer mourn." 

Tito smiled and nodded, walking out and snapping his fingers for four of his goons to follow him.

++++++++++++++++++

TBC.....


	4. Drawn to Me

**Drawn To Me**- Part 4 of Song of Solomon Series. _("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.") _

__

by: Isabelle 

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics belong to Lara Fabian, You are My Heart & I will love Again 

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine. 

Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to by Betas Allison and Ophelia ;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox* 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_"Did I ever tell you how you live in me?   
Every waking moment,   
Even in my dreams." __  
I will love again__, Lara Fabian _

__

"So, how exactly do you make your living, luv?" 

Rocco asked a half-dressed Buffy as she rummaged the bottom of her closet for her boots. 

The blonde was squatting; wincing at her not yet healed ribs. "Like you said, I'm an assassin." 

Rocco looked appreciatively at her butt as she wiggled it in the air and smirked. "So you say this as if it's nothin'," he said, trying to act like all of his blood pressure was not going south. 

Buffy smiled indulgently as she held her boot up in triumph. "Found it!" 

Rocco went to her and helped her stand up. "I still don't know why you're working—you are all sore an' purple." 

Buffy limped to the bed and pulled on her boot. "It's either work limping or die. I prefer the first one." 

Rocco took the seat next to her. "I don't get you, slayer. You mope about having the worst life and then you do everything to prevent yourself from dying. Make up your bleedin' mind." 

_"I'll do it," Angel said to the group. _

_Cordy stood up abruptly, waking up Liam. "Angel" _

_He turned to look at her, his six-month child in her arms. "Take care of him for me?" he asked her. _

_He could see the tears forming in her eyes but was shaken out of their trance when Spike placed his hand on his arm. _

_"No, I'll do it," the younger vampire said. _

_Angel turned to look at him. "What?" _

_"What?" Buffy echoed next to him, looking at them in despair. _

_Spike sighed and ran his hand through his bleached locks. "A vampire needs to be the one to hold the portal open—I can do it." _

_"It'll kill you, William," Angel reminded him. _

_Spike purposely avoided Buffy's gaze. "I knowguess it's my turn to make up for what I've done." _

_Angel studied him for some time and finally shook his head. _

_Before the dark haired vampire could tell him to forget it, Spike spoke. "You have a son, Angelus—the powers have a larger plan for you. We've all known it. MeI'm just a soul-less vampire," he said and shrugged. "You stay—make sure Liam fulfills his destiny." _

_Angel's eyes watered at his words and the pain of nostalgia filled him the same way it had filled him when Darla had died. He couldn't help from taking the younger vampire in his arms and hugging him. The rest of the occupants in the bowed their heads as the only soul-less creature volunteered to be sacrificed. _

_"I'm really proud of you, m'boy," Angel told him. _

_Before anyone could react Buffy bolted out of the room, running out into the night. _

_Spike pulled back knowing what his slayer's reaction was going to be. _

_Without further word he ran after her. _

_"Buffy!" _

_She ran faster when she heard his voice. _

_"Slayer, don't be" _

_She turned around and glared at him. _

_"What? Bitchy? Well I have the right to be bitchy at the moment—I have every right, Spike!" her last words came out almost as a sob. _

_He walked quickly up to her and wrapped her in his arms. _

_She grabbed on to him and sobbed in his chest as he rocked her back and forth. "I'll find a way—I swear I'll find a way—you just wait, you hold on and I'll find a way, she said, her words muffled on his chest. _

_"Shhhpet, you know there's no other way." Spike whispered against her hair. There was one thing he didn't want, and that was to leave this life he had just found. _

_Buffy took his face in her trembling hands and kissed him. She pulled back, tears running down her flushed checks. "I hate this—I hate my lifeit's not fair. The powers wait until I find someone I love and then they rip it away from me." _

_Spike leaned in his forehead against hers and cried with her. "I love you baby—no matter what, I love you. You remember that, you hear? No matter what—I'll always be with you. Cause if one of us survives then a part of the other lives too." _

_Buffy wrapped her arms around him and inhaled his smell. "I love you—why does love have to hurt so much?" _

_"Love don't hurt—it's loosing it that kills, but you wont lose it, pet. You'll never lose it." _

_Buffy sobbed against him, kissing his neck and cheeks. "I don't want to live, Spike—I can't." _

_Spike pulled back away from her and took her face between his hands. His blue eyes sparkling in the night. "No! You listen to me, Buffy—you stay alive, you survive, no matter what. I'm dying so you can live—just like you did for me last time, remember? And it'll hurt, baby—it'll hurt like hell, and some days you'll feel like dying'. But not living is the coward's way out—and that's one thing you're not. You're a warrior...you're my warrior." He touched her hair gently. "I love you, Summers."_

_He kissed her forehead and leaned into her, while she cried quiet sobs against that familiar leather. "You remember what I told you the day we couldn't stop singing'?" he asked her. Buffy shook her head. _

_"You must go on living—so one of us is living." _

"Cause I have to live—I have to go on living." She looked back at Rocco. "As long as one of us is alive a little part of the other lives on." 

_How did I ever   
Get to here?   
Why do I need you?   
Why do I have   
To cry these tears? _

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` _

The three men inside the parked SUV with tinted black windows looked on at the two pedestrians. 

The front seat passenger looked at the driver and nodded. 

The driver took out his cell phone and dialed one of the memory numbers. "Boss? We found em." 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` _

Buffy glared at Rocco when he told her his plan. 

"I don't think so," she said and crushed the cigarette under her healed boot. 

Rocco sighed and continued on his way. 

"Where are you going?" she cried after him. 

"I'm treating you to a nice dinner, you need to eat somethin' other than buffalo wings an' flowerin' onions," He said. 

She caught up with him and grabbed his arms forcing him to look at her. "I don't need to be fed, I make my own money." 

Rocco pointed at the bruises in her face. "I would advise getting a new profession—this one seems to make you age." 

Buffy glared at him. "And what exactly do you expect me to do, work in an office—nine to five? Hey—what do you suppose my boss will say after I've worked there twenty years and I still look 24? Anti-wrinkle cream?" 

Rocco shook her arm off. "You keep giving yourself excuses like this and you'll remain as unhappy as you arealways—for all of eternity. Can you imagine that existence?" 

Buffy was not able to take her eyes off his hypnotic blue ones—they held her captive like similar ones did so long ago. She felt her chest constrict and her breathing accelerate. So she did what Buffy Summers did. She grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. 

Rocco was beyond surprised, but within seconds he was plundering her mouth as well. 

Buffy moaned into the kiss, she could feel his groin growing against her stomach. She hadn't kissed like this indecades. And these lips—she knew these lips. And suddenly she was back in time, kissing Spike. 

_She felt miserable, she felt dead, and she felt abandoned. It was a sick twisted pain that was eating her alive. Any moment and she was going to cave—let go of everything. _

_She felt his presence next to her and she groaned inwardly. If he came any closer she would devour him, if he walked away perhaps she could regain some of her dignity. _

_She stared ahead, here sitting in the bar with the sad song playing in the background. But the more she ignored him the more he stood there. _

_She turned her head slowly to look at him. It could only be a look—anything more she would beg for him to hold her in his arms and make her forget this rotten world. _

_He looked so concerned, but if she gave in he might leave—just like her father did, just like Angel did, just like Riley did, just like Mom did, just like Giles just did. And she couldn't do it, she couldn't stand the pain in her heart—it was eating her inside. _

_So she turned from him—it was better this way. _

_She felt him leave; the anger and frustration he carried hit her like a ton of blocks. And she needed to live, she needed to feel, she needed to do something, anything. _

_She told herself she would let him go—she would be all right. But she knew she wouldn't be all right. _

_So she ran after him. _

_Panic gripped at her throat when she couldn't find him in the crowd, she looked in every corner but he wasn't there. Tears were threatening to spill down her face when she felt her spidey sense twitch. He was still there._

_She turned around and there he was, looking at her with a questioning gaze. Her hands trembled and her lips shivered. _

_She walked up to him and stood there—looking at him._

_"I thought you left," she told him. He looked down on her and bent his head to the side to study her. _

_"I did." _

_She got closer to him; the presence of him was burning through her. _

_"Why did you come back?" she whispered. _

_He didn't answer but she knew the answer. Because he loved her. And she wanted to scream at him that it was not true—that soulless creatures can't love. But the answer was there in his eyes. And she just melted. _

_She reached up to touch his face and he closed his eyes and relished the moment. She brought his head down and tentatively touched their lips. _

_He was eager and waiting, so she lost herself in his kiss. _

_The kiss surrounded her. He surrounded her. And for the moment there was no Giles telling her he was leaving, there were no money problems, there was only them. A boy and a girl who just wanted to kiss. _

Rocco was surprised at her urgency. He pulled back to take a breath and she closer her eyes and leaned their foreheads together. 

She smiled languidly; Rocco couldn't help but be pleased with himself.

"Spike," she moaned quietly. 

"That does it!" he cried and let her go. 

Buffy whimpered at the loss of touch but was shaken from her thoughts by his voice. 

"Bloody ell," he groaned as he paced in front of her. 

She had no idea what she had done. "What happened?" she asked. 

Blue eyes blazed to glare at her. 

"What happened? She wants to know what happened." He told no one in particular. "Here I am, kissing a girl whom I happen to find sodding wonderful and she's off in ninny-land kissing her long dead boyfriend!" 

Buffy swallowed and looked down. Ok—so she had no clue she was kissing Rocco—in her mind it was Spike. 

"Rocco...I..." 

"Listen, Buffy--I get that you loved this guy, I get he did something wonderful, I get that--but, pet--you've got to let go." He placed both hand on each of her shoulders and looked at her intently. "He's not coming back, luv. He ain't..." 

"Don't say that!" she screamed at him and pulled away, covering her ears. 

Rocco shook his head and watched and she crouched herself in to a little ball, there in the middle of the street with passersby looking on. 

"Buffy, please..." Rocco pleaded as he crouched in front of her stroking her hair. 

She jerked away form him and he couldn't help but wince at the coldness of her eyes. 

"You, stay--the fuck away from me, or I swear to god I'll kill you." With that she stood up and ran off towards the docks. She had business to do. 

_Where do   
They lead to?   
I used to be so   
Strong alone   
When I was   
Standing on my own   
Now I don't   
Know what to do _

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

She wondered when the night became so bright. How was it that she saw every shadow, every movement that flowed with the waves of the darkness? 

She looked down as she walked, her small hands wrapped around the small rifle tucked inside her large leather coat. 

Spike's coat had died about ten years ago; she still kept the remains of it in a small box under her bed. 

So she stole the closest one to it. 

Walking there in the night, while the wind hit her face, the fresh smell of the ocean so close yet so far away.

_"Where are we going?" She laughed as he picked her up and started walking. _

_"Don't you trust me, pet?" he murmured close to her ear. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his strong neck, resting her blindfolded head lightly on his shoulder. _

_"Yes, take me away, far away," she smiled and kissed his neck._

_She heard him chuckle. The scent hit her like a wave that crashes the sea. _

_"Spike?" she asked suspiciously._

_"Yes, luv," he asked._

_"Why are we in the ocean?" she asked, tried to peak under her blindfold._

_"Hey! No peaking!" he chastised._

_She giggled like a silly schoolgirl. "You didn't answer the question."_

_"I meant not to," he replied and she felt as they started descending a small hill._

_"Don't drop me!" she cried, holding on tighter to his neck._

_Spike stopped and swung her around, making her squeal with delight. "Stop!" she giggled._

_"Don't drop you?" he faked a drop, making the slayer scream._

_He held her in a tight embrace against his chest. _

_"I'll never let you go," he whispered to her, blending in the laugher and kisses that she rained on his cheek and neck._

Buffy looked ahead, eyes cold in a cold night where cold people stalked the shadows.

The boots on her feet seemed tighter, hotter. 

She wished sometimes that she could walk naked, let her body shiver until she went mad with cold. Maybe then she would die. In a cold street, naked and trembling.

It seemed like a good death she lied to herself. It was moments like this when she remembered the good times in the past that she felt more naked and alone than ever.

She hated this existence, she hated what she had become, she hated the promises she made and she hated that she lived up to them.

Sometimes she wished she could remember her sister. 

Then it wouldn't be as sad, she told herself. 

She could never remember if her hair was brown like her mother's or blonde like hers. 

Dawn.

The name taste funny in her mouth. Bitter and aggravating. 

It was weak and without life...just like she had been.

The moment Dawn died things just started to change. 

It began with the pictures in the living room of her house. The house she lived in five days after their death. Pictures of three happy women changed to two. Only one of them alive.

She remembered breaking all the mirrors in her house....

_"Buffy please!" Angel shouted at her._

_She said nothing, weaving through the house like a zombie. She grabbed her mother's mirror, the one that had been housed in Willow's room and slammed it with slayer strength on the floor._

_Angel grabbed Buffy and shook her. "Stop this."_

_She didn't meet his gaze and wrenched his hands from her, breaking bones with her strength, making him cry out. She walked down the hall to the large family portrait hung above the table. She glared at it. She could see the girl's image fading away. Smile here. Smile gone._

_She screamed at it and took the oak table in her hands, breaking away the leg and shattering the large photograph._

_She hit the wall until splinters cut her skin and she bled. But she fell in love with the pain. The pain was real, her blood was real. Her sister was not._

_It had all been an illusion. A lie. And she felt the walls crumbling around her._

_She started sobbing, she hadn't cried this hard...since her mother had died._

_She felt empty and alone. She knew she was crying out their names but she didn't care, she didn't care if Giles didn't approve or if Xander said 'I told you so' or if Willow looked at her with pity._

_She wanted all that hatred to be wrenched form her soul. She wanted to feel nothing._

_She felt when Angel wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth._

_She melted into those arms that no longer belonged to her. She wanted to be that little girl she was years ago that used to hide within his embrace. Let the whole world fall apart around her._

_But she couldn't hide from herself. It was falling apart within her and no matter how long he held her or how familiar it felt, they were still gone and the emptiness burned right through her._

She wished she could remember Dawn's face. Did Dawn make her happy or make her sad? Did she annoy her or were they best of pals?

But answers took energy, energy she needed for the kill. 

Killing was her calling, she was doomed to do it until the world withered and died. Bringing down the infestation that was humanity, taking her along with it.

_Was I too proud   
Or just too blind?   
What does it matter?   
When love was in   
These hands of mine   
I let it shatter_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Rocco fumed as he walked to his house. He had only been in L.A. a couple of days and there he was falling in love with a reckless immortal, one that was only interested in him because he wore the face of her long lost love.

He hated this. 

He reached the gate of the private sector and the guard came rushing out.

"Mr. Pickering, you'll catch the death of cold!" the guard came out. 

Rocco shook his head and waved the man off. "It's a good night, Jackson--I'll be fine."

"Let me call your father, sir. He's been worried sick."

Rocco sighed and walked ahead into the three-story mansion. At least it wasn't as stuffy as it was in England.

As soon as he walked in through the large glass doors he heard Beatriz, the housemaid cry out in relief. 

"Young Pickering! Were have you been, young sir?" she scolded, taking his coat, and moving him into the warmth of the house. "You're mother has been at the smelling salts for the past two days! You can't continue this behavior, sir, your father was about to call the police!"

Rocco said nothing as he was led into the parlor and forced to sit. He winced as his still-bruised ribs poked him.

"You're hurt!" She cried out pulling at the ends of his sweater.

"I'm fine, Beatriz, really." Rocco tried.

"You're most definitely not!" she gasped as she saw his black and blue abdomen wrapped in thick gauze. "Dear lord, Rockwell!"

"It's not as bad as it looks, really."

The maid glared at him. "I'm calling Doctor Stevens."

Rocco groaned and almost hid behind the large sofa when he heard his mother coming.

"Rockwell Pickering! You're going to be the death of me," she yelled at him, losing all traces of proper English society.

Rocco bowed his head and bit his lip. "Sorry, mum...I...things got complicated."

"Complicated indeed," she started to cry and Rocco hissed at the sound of her sobs. "You insist in going on about in the dead of night, frolicking with strangers and getting yourself hurt in this manner. I simply do not know what to do with you, Rockwell."

Rocco continued with the chewing of his bottom lip. 

"You are an educated young man, Rockwell, from an excellent family, and yet you insist on socializing with people who do you no good, my darling." his mother sat next to him and cupped his chin.

He looked up at her, beautiful blue eyes just like his. Red and stained with the burden of a rebellious child.

"I'm sorry, mum," he said softly. 

"Your father will have none of this, you know?"

Rocco's insides twisted as he imagined his father's reaction.

"Is he...Is he here?"

"I very well am."

The thunderous voice sounded from the entrance and Rocco prayed to the last saints to spare his life.

"Father." he said quietly.

His father walked quietly into the room and stood before his hurt child.

"Where were you this time?" he asked. Rocco could feel the angry vibrations seeping out of his mouth.

He took a large breath of air and met his eyes.

Oh yeah--he was mad.

"I...met someone...a girl...well a woman."

Both of his parents studied him. "A girl?" his mother asked.

Rocco nodded. "I wanted to come home, I did father. I just went out for a drink. But she was...she was. She is something else and I just wanted to spend all the time I could with her."

His father arched hairy brow at him. "Son...."

Rocco bowed his head and nodded. "I know, I shouldn't do that to a girl--but it's ok. She would never fall in love with me."

_The pieces scattered   
To the wind   
I'll never have  
Them here again   
But I'll remember   
How we were   
The rest of time _

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Buffy watched the three men from behind a large 55-gallon drum. Her small body molded into the shadows as she studied the small one in the middle. 

Her ribs still hurt and so did her shoulders, but she had learned to ignore the pain many years ago...the pain was a reminder that she was still going.

She still was.

Silently, like an owl that strikes in the night she aimed her gun. This time there would be no distractions. 

She focused her eyesight and pointed at his head. 

Fingers on the trigger, legs ready to run for her life.

//BANG//

Dead body falling to the ground guns being pulled, slayer speed getting ahead and leaping out through the metal doors.

She could hear the shots around her, men screaming and running after her. 

But they were human, and even badass humans came with an expiration date. She was an immortal slayer who had nothing to loose but a promise she had made long ago.

She ran with all her might. Her job was done. It was a hit and run. No personal business.

She ran all the way to the factory where she knew the boss would be at.

The vampires standing guard on the entrance saw her coming as instantly moved to the side. 

"Ceasar!" she screamed out into the large open factory. From the top railings vampires started to emerge, her vampire senses sung high notes as they filled around her, surrounding her.

"Come out here and face me, you coward!"

The vampires snickered at her, growling and approaching her more menacingly. 

A loud chuckle was heard and most of the minions shut up and scurried back to the dark where they came from. 

From the crowd of them they parted and the large vampire came forward.

"Buffy Anne Summers, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" he asked smirking.

She walked right up to him and punched him.

Game faces came out and guns were pointed at her. The room stood frozen as the fate of the slayer was decided.

"Next time you want to send me a message you come to me yourself. You don't send your lackeys to beat the shit out of me when I'm drunk and unarmed. We had a deal, Caesar. I'm not your bounty-hunter."

Caesar sucked gently on the blood that was coming from his broken lips and glared down at the small girl.

"You're digging your own grave, slayer--I'd be glad to finance your funeral."

Buffy smirked at him and crossed her arms. "Look at that. Still dead and I get your support."

He growled at her. "I could have you killed right now," he said.

"Why don't you try?"

He studied her cold eyes for a moment before her signaled his men to put down their weapons. "And do you the favor?" he smiled. "No, my pretty lil' thing. Letting you live is your greatest punishment."

Buffy scowled at him, making him smile even wider.

"Sorry for you slayer, but hey! Look at the bright side. Now you have Spike to keep you company!"

Without warning the slayer punched him again, sending him staggering two feet back. "You don't say his name! Don't you dare! And that boy you saw me with—he will never be Spike, ever! So stay away form him and me. We're now even, and the next time I run into you I will dust you."

She held his gaze for a second and walked out leaving him glaring at her retreating figure.

"Should we kill 'er, boss?" Tito asked next to him.

Caesar shook his head and rubbed his aching jaw.

"No--like I said killing the bitch will be a good thing, making her live and suffer is the bad."

_You are my heart   
How could I   
Ever let you go?   
You are my soul   
I had to lose  
My soul to know  
How much you mean  
To me, you are my heart_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Buffy walked down the street wiping the falling tears from her cheeks.

She was tired...so tired. 

She just wanted to end it all, she wished a million times that she would've never made that promise.

She found herself walking to the pier.

She loved this pier.

She walked to the end and sat down on her bench. Closing her eyes she let her soul drift with the tides. 

_"You seem different tonight," he murmured into her ear._

_She smiled softly and sagged against him, his cold chest cooling her heated one._

_She was playing softly with his curls._

_"I feel different, she murmured back._

_He play bit her hand. "What's the occasion?"_

_She swatted his mouth away and continued with the soft threading of his hair. "Us."_

_Spike froze and looked at her. "What?"_

_She locked eyes with him and took his face in her hands. "Us...you and me. Us."_

_He arched his eyebrow at her. "I thought there wasn't an 'us'."_

_She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. He responded by holding her close. _

_"Seems like there is to me," she whispered._

_She felt him sigh and smiled against his cold skin. "I can't wait to see everyone's face when we tell them."_

_He pulled her back and looked at her. She could see the fear behind his eyes, the uncertainty--she wanted to kiss all his insecurities away and tell him that it would all be different from now on. "I'm sorry, Spike."_

_She kissed his gaping mouth. "I know that this has been...well I don't know what it's been like for you, to have to keep your hands to yourself when you were dying to reassure me or to kiss me. When Willow would suggest a guy to check out at the bronze, when you saw me dancing with someone else and let it eat you inside. When Xander would make one of his unnecessary comments about your devotion and your love and I know you just wanted to rip his head off." She smiled and he returned it. "But most of all, to be able to walk down the street like we always do and just hold handsshow affectionroll over and find me there in the morning"_

_Spike broke eye contact with her; she could feel his body stiffen under hers. _

_"This was not meant to hurt you" She kissed his bare chest. "I want to"_

_He looked back at her, his eyes hopeful and wide. "What do you want?"_

_They shared an uncomfortable moment, until she leaned forward and kissed him. "You make me feel alive. When I'm with you, I'm real. Thank you for being patient with me."_

_He nodded a bit disappointed that he didn't get the words he's been dying to hear for almost a year now. "Right then, we're an us."_

_"Spike?" _

_"Hum?"_

_"Look at me," she told him. _

_He did and she smiled at him. "Do you love me?"_

_He arched his eyebrow at her and studied her for a second. "You know I do."_

_"Do you trust me?"_

_He studied her again. "YesI do."_

_"Then trust in this, then. Ask me again someday—you might get the answer you're looking for."_

_"Buffy I don't."_

_She silenced him with a kiss. _

_"Ask me again—trust me in that."_

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there. Before she knew it the sun was peaking in the horizon.

She remembered all those moments, those thick emotional depths that lived in her heart. Those little seconds that she would cherish for the rest of her life. Those that made her whole.

She was ready to say goodbye once and for all, to look forward to the sun shinning in her hair once more. To close the pages to her love for Spike from so long ago.

She really was.

Until he sat down next to her.

She looked at him.

"Why are you drawn to me?" she asked him.

Rocco shook his head and lit a cigarette offering her one.

She took it between his lips and smiled at the coming dawn.

"I haven't seen it over fifteen years."

Rocco studied her for a moment and nodded.

"No wonder you're pale."

Buffy smirked and watched the lighting sky.

"Good thing I'm in a good mood, I would've punched you otherwise."

Rocco smiled. "Good thing then, pet."

They sat in silence. 

"Buffy, I need to tell you something."

She didn't tear her gaze from the horizon. "Then say it."

Rocco turned to look at her and took a deep breath. "I know peoplewell my family knows people and"

Buffy exhaled her smoke and turned to look at him, frowning. "Listen, rock-boy I've heard more bad news in my life than what you can imagine. Spit is out, no need to be shy."

Rocco stuttered and nodded. "Right, then. Well, I know this woman who canwell she canOh bloody ell! Buffy, she can bring Spike back."

_I think I see you everywhere   
Isn't that crazy?   
I still reach out to feel you there lying beside me   
I've learned a lot since you've been gone   
About what I am, and what I want   
I know I only want to be in love with you_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TBC...


	5. Desperate Measures

**Desperate Measures**- Part 5 of Song of Solomon Series. ("_Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women_.") 

By: Isabelle 

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics: _Pilgrim _by Enya. 

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: **Please do not take without my permission**. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is CarnalSins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soul mate of mine. 

Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.) 

Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com 

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to by Betas Allison and Ophelia ;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox* 

**BIG NOTE FOR THIS ONE**: There are Spanish words here that have no translation in the text but at the end of the chapter is small glossary that tells you not only the meaning but some tid-bits about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"My beloved spoke, and said unto me, rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. " 

Song of Songs 2: 10-13, The Bible 

  


She must have blinked three times before she realized and understood what he had said. 

"What?" 

Rocco looked down at her hand. It was scraped from contacting Caesar's fangs. He took her smaller hand in his and studied the calluses that had formed through the years. 

"Her name is Dolores; she used to work for my father." 

Buffy pulled her hand away from his, getting uncomfortable with the heat of his skin. She stood up and walked away from him. 

"Buffy?" 

She kept walking. 

He followed. 

"I thought it would be good news," Rocco said confused. 

She turned to look at him, tears flowing down her face. He sighed, she was crying...again. 

"Look there," she said pointing to the bench. He looked. "Right there, a second before you came I was ready to say goodbye to him. To that life that I left so long ago...I was finally ready." 

Rocco shook his head. "But there might be a chance..." 

"No! There is no chance! Do you understand? He was a vampire, ok? He wasn't human--he didn't have a soul. He was a walking, animated corpse that had one beautiful demon living inside." She cried, running a shaky hand through her hair. "You think I didn't search? That I didn't spend years researching?" 

_"Buffy, what are you doing?" Xander asked tentatively as she walked around the Magic Box, pulling out volumes and dropping them on the table._

_She continued looking at book titles. "One of these has to have something."_

_Xander sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Buffy, please..."_

_"No!" She cried, turning to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hands trembled as she held the book tight to her chest. "Xander...I can't." She stopped, trying to find her voice. "They've been gone for four days and I can't..."_

_"Buffy, you have to give it time to heal--it's too fresh now."_

_Xander walked to her and wrapped his arms around her boneless body. "There has to be a way...there just has to..."_

_Xander rocked her back and forth until her sobs had quieted down. Until she felt the demons within her quiet, until she felt numb with pain and loss and abandonment._

_She ran away that night._

"This time it might be different." Rocco pleaded with her. 

Buffy glared at him. "Why do you follow me? Why do you continue to talk to me when I don't want to be talked to?" 

Rocco sighed and grabbed her hand; he pulled her to the rail on the pier, facing the sea. He placed her with her hands holding to the bar and stood behind her, pressing himself against her, placing his arms on either side her hers. 

Buffy felt her body flush by the intimate embrace. He leaned his head on her shoulder, propping his chin up. "Look at that sun, pet." He whispered. 

Through her haze of emotions she looked at the awakening sun. It lighted the sky in soft yellows and deep oranges. 

"I promised myself that I would help someone before I leave...that someone is you. I went out that night to find a person, a person who had nothing to live for, a person who hated life and was looking for a way out...the powers sent you. You have more history coursing though your veins than I could ever imagine. So I'm asking you now...will you please give it a try, a chance--you'll lose nothing if it doesn't work." 

"Only my heart and my hopes," she said quietly. "If I believe you now, if I do go with you and tell myself thatthat I'll see Spike again—and he doesn't come back." She took a thick gulp of air. "I'd have to mourn him all over againI can't do that, Rocco. It killed that Buffy thenit would destroy what she has become now." 

"Wouldn't that be the point, pet? To revive that long lost part of you, the sparkle in your eyes, the love of life?" he asked. 

She turned around to look at him. His eyes were a brilliant blue, but it wasn't her Spike. The darkness that always hung around Spike was not there, there wasn't the fluttering of her heart around him and his presence didn't make her question all that she was. 

"I've done so many" 

"We've all done bad things in life." He reminded her. 

_Pilgrim, how you journey  
On the road you chose  
To find out where the winds die  
And where the stories go_

She looked up at him again; her eyes watered with unshed tears. "No, in life we tell a couple of white lies here and there, maybe cheat on our taxes, cheat on our partnershumans do many things that they shouldn't, things that corrupt morals. But melet's just say I cry myself to sleep sometimes when the faces of those I've killed come back to haunt me. I have to ask myself at nightwho will haunt me tonight?" 

Rocco was taken aback by her words. He pulled away from her and gaped at her. 

She smiled wickedly at him. "So you see, dear boy—I'm not as innocent as you want me to be." She pulled her hands in front of him. "You see these hands?" she asked him. He nodded. 

She inspected them in the soft light of the morning. "They have the strength of ten men. And they've killed more than tenthere is no heaven waiting for these hands, there's only hell left for meand I'm in it now." 

He took her hands in his and forced her to look at him. 

"Do you love him?" He asked fiercely. 

Buffy stared at Rocco for sometime and slowly nodded. "You know I do." 

"Did he die loving you?" 

She nodded slowly again. 

"Then he'll come back loving you" 

"No! He'll come back loving Buffy! She died, I'm not her, and I just have her memoriesnot even my body is the same. I'm scarred, I'm callused, I'm rough, and I've fucked more men than I can rememberso you see she died" 

"Stop sayin' that! Look at me, luv." He commanded. "You think he didn't like the dark side of you? That he fell in love with your innocence?" 

Buffy didn't answer him, but bit her lip in response. 

"I don't know about Spikebut from what you told me it seems that he fell in love with the whole package, and that never goes away." 

Buffy remained quiet, small tears running down her face. 

"C'monwe must leave early if we want to get there on time," he said. 

Taking her small hand he dragged her to the car. 

_All days come from one day  
That must you must know,  
You cannot change what's over  
But only where you go_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The world passed around her like a slow carrousel. She saw the same things twice, thrice and more. 

Tree. 

Person. 

Car. 

Land. 

Building. 

It was a monotonous ache that burned her and made her want to scream, but there was thin glass between her and the world. She hadn't bothered to ask Rocco why they were in a limousine, or why did the chauffeur call him sir'. All she knew, all she could think of was the fact that she was going to get Spike back. 

She had lost hope long agoshe had searched high and low for ways to bring back a vampire that had died of unnatural causes. She only found dead ends and construction signs in her path. 

There was nothing real in her reality. 

_"Do you ever wish that you hadn't been brought back?"_

_Buffy was startled by Spike's voice. She had been in the kitchen trying to cook a decent meal for Dawn and apparently he had been lounging by the door, staring at her like she often found him. Almost as if he couldn't believe that she was really there, that they were really together._

_She thought hard on his question, as she continued stirring the Alfredo sauce. The small parsley bits mingled in with the brown buttered crushed cloves of garlic_. 

_"At timeswhen it's so hard I want to will it all to go away." She looked back up at him. "Then yes, in those moments I wish I were deadin that perfect place, you know?"_

_He shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "NoI don't know—guess I'll never know."_

_She stopped stirring, regardless of the instructions and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry"_

_Spike shook his head. "No matter—I'm living in heaven ere."_

_Buffy walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You think your soul is up there?"_

_Spike looked up at the kitchen ceiling. "Don't fancy hanging bout your crummy ceiling all eternity but I'm guessing as long as it's close to you...then it's alright. No qualms ere."_

_Buffy chuckled and pushed him away. "I can never have a serious conversation with you." She complained._

_Spike imitated her pout and pulled her back to his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and kissing the top of her head. "Don't matter were I end up, what matters for me is herenow, being with you and Nibblet, it's good nough for me."_

_Buffy looked up at him. "If you get dusty I'd bring you back and punish you for making me mourn you."_

_Spike gave her a wicked smiled. "You'd spank me good and proper?"_

_Buffy pushed him off. "Ugh! You're such a perv!"_

_Spike laughed at her insulted look. "And you know it."_

_He began kissing her in the way he knew she couldn't resist. The bastard!_

_Dawn ate burnt Fettuccini Alfredo that day._

She sighed and dug into her pocket her for a cigarette. For some reason she had told herself not to believe the beautiful lies. She would spare a glance at Rocco once in a while who simply smiled back at her and told her how much time they had left in their trip. Apparently they were headed to Arizona. 

She shrugged; she'd never been there. 

"So who this woman, exactly?" She asked, rolling down her window and blowing the smoke outside. 

Rocco crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back. "She's a _curandera_among other things." 

"A _curandera_?" Buffy asked confused. 

"A woman who is like the local witch doctor for the small Mexican tribes. She deals with herbs and _echizos_." He said. Buffy rolled her eyes. "I know what it is, Rocco. Just when did _curanderas_ become bringers of the dead?" 

Rocco smiled. "For hundreds of years, luv." 

"Didn't the government outlaw them back in '34?" She asked, playing with the hem of her coat. 

Rocco took one of her cigarettes and lit it for himself. "They did." 

She smiled at him wickedly. "Seems to me you're not as saintly as you claim to be." 

"Everyone has their demons, slayer." 

She nodded in agreement. "Some more than others." 

_One way leads to diamonds,  
One way leads to gold,  
Another leads you only  
To everything you're told  
In your heart you wonder  
Which of these is true;  
The road that leads to nowhere,  
The road that leads to you_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

The reached the tiny border village hours later when the sun was almost setting. Buffy was hungry and she desperately hoped there were some good buffalo wings nearby. 

_Montaña de Paz_ was a small village of no more than four hundred people. The desert-land was dry and gusty, sending small waves of ocher sand magically into the air. 

The huts were made of dry cement, with small wooden entrances that remained mostly open to let some of the cool breeze into the hot hut. 

Male children wearing Salvation Army hand-me-downs ran in the street, chasing each other, playing Cowboys and Indians with wooden sticks for swords and guns. 

Young female children sat in little groups out site the houses playing with their _muñecas_, dressing them in colorful rags of clothing. 

The older girls, their mothers and _abuelas_ sat peeling the corns and crushing the _masa_ for the tortillas. 

Some of the men stood by the cantina having their _cervezas_ and playing with a pack of old beat-up cards. Some other gathered in groups to speak of _politica_ and the twisted government that had ignored their needs. 

When the limousine entered the village everything went still and the inhabitants watched with weary eyes the _Americanos_ that came to their land. 

Buffy watched with keen interest as the villagers studied the car, trying to see who came this time to their haven. 

"Where are we?" She asked almost whispering. 

"_Montaña de paz_. Mountain of Peace. It's one of the few isolated villages in the country. The natives speak their own language and live their own lives. We don't bother them and they don't bother us." 

"Seems to me we're intruding." She commented and smiled at the little girl with a dirty face and held her doll tight and watched the car with a curious face. She noticed her feet were bare. "Why doesn't anyone help these people?" she asked. 

Rocco shrugged. "One can only help those who want to be helped." 

Buffy turned to look at him. "They don't want to be helped?" 

Rocco pointed to the villagers. "They've lived this way for a hundred years." 

"I'm sure it was not always this way." 

"Well you bloody greedy colonials just had to manifest your destiny and take over the entire bleedin' continent—therefore some people suffer so you can have more land on your American map." He smirked at her. 

She glared back. "I'm so not having this conversation—it's not my fault what people did hundreds of years ago. If I've learned something in my long life is that you can't undo the greatest wrongs done to people, you can only hope that they rise from the ashes." 

"Wise words from the broody and glary," He shot back. 

Buffy grumbled and turned back on her seat. 

_Will you find the answer  
In all you say and do?  
Will you find the answer in you?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

At the edge of the village the limousine stopped. 

The slayer looked out the window and saw a little hut. 

It was different from the others. Beads hung on the roof of the small makeshift porch, made from local seeds and hard, dried fruit. There were skins of snakes and dried chicken feet hung by string and set to dry. 

A small vegetable and weed garden bloomed to the side of the hut, filled with _culantros_, _achiotes_, _rosa de mañana, recado, pimientos_ and other various green plants that she could not identify. 

The chauffeur came around the limousine and opened the door for Buffy; she glared at him and stepped out of the car. 

"I can open the damn door by myself," she hissed. 

Rocco came up behind her. "Pardon the lady, she's had a rough trip and she's hungry." 

Buffy scowled at him but he ignored her, as did the stuffy chauffeur. A large hand settled on the small of her back and she was urged forward. 

She eyed the silent hut warily; it was larger than the rest of the village, but a small hut nonetheless. 

"Are you sure it's safe...it looks like it might fall down and then you'd have Buffymush." 

Rocco smiled at her and urged her forward. "It's safe." 

The scent of _violetas_ was thick in the air, making her dizzy at the strong scent. 

"Just relax, the scent burns right through you," he told her and raised his hand to knock at the small door. 

_Each heart is a pilgrim,  
Each one wants to know  
The reason why the winds die  
And where the stories go_

The door was opened and a young girl of about thirteen stood before them. She wore a white dress that stopped midcalf, with a thick red ribbon tied around her small waist. Her black hair was braided in a single thick plait that fell to her side. She was deeply tanned but her cheeks were plump and pink. Large black eyes met Buffy's and her smile was so wholehearted that Buffy couldn't help but smile back. 

"Mr. Pickering! She knew you were coming!" She said brightly. She looked at Buffy. "You too, Miss Summers." 

Buffy gaped at her. 

The girl nodded knowingly. "She's all-knowing, she knew you were coming for months--the wind from the west told her." 

The girl turned around, motioning them to follow. 

"Must remember to thank my friend the wind," she murmured under the breath. 

The inside of the hut was dark and dry, the walls were covered with pictures of Catholic saints, candles, and an occasional animal skull. There was burning incense made from crushed flowers and dark roots that made Buffy gag. The hut had apparently two rooms, one was the entry and a thin white sheet separated the next. 

Behind them the young girl closed the door, startling Buffy and making Rocco chuckle. She glared at him and held tighter to his arm. 

Behind the white sheet she could see someone moving, there were lit candles that gave the sheet theatrical shadows that hunted the dark room. 

"Sé quien eres," (I know who you are.) the voice of a woman was heard from behind the curtain. 

Rocco looked at Buffy questioningly and she shivered. 

"Ella me entiende," (She understands me.) The _curandera_ said as Buffy heard some another candle being lit. "Yo se que tu eres," (I know _what_ you are.) she continued. 

Buffy squinted behind the curtain trying to see the woman. 

"Sé...que tu corazon te duele. Sé...que lloras de noche por el amor perdido. Sé...que ella no eres pura de sangre, y tus manos estan cultidas de sangre innocente." (I know...that your heart is hurting. I know...that you cry nightly because of a lost love. I know...that your blood is no longer pure and your hands are tinted with the blood of innocents.) 

Buffy shivered as she bit her lips, the woman's hissing voice chilled her and made her uneasy. 

"Vienes porque crees que yo te puedo alludar." (You came here because you think I can help you.) 

Buffy stood stock still as the shadow stood up and walked towards the curtains. 

"Entra...hermana." (Enter, sister.) 

Without thinking twice about it she proceeded without Rocco, and pulling the curtain apart she crossed to the other side. 

_Pilgrim, in your journey  
You may travel far,  
For pilgrim it's a long way  
To find out who you are_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Before she even saw the _curandera's_ face she knew she had entered a trance. 

She knew this because she was floating. Her small body felt weightless and she was seeing the clouds. 

Yup, definitely a trance. 

There were clouds but she wasn't in Heaven, the sky was dark red and there was boiling heat surrounding her. She thought her skin might burn and melt away and she gasped in pain as the heat lanced through her. 

Wherever she was, she was gently set down from her flying excursion. The floor was scorching hot but no matter how hot it was she would not burn, her skin stayed intact. 

She walked forward tentatively and that's when she heard. 

Screams. 

Agonizing screams that pierced the night of red and orange. 

She realized in an instant. 

She was in hell. 

_Pilgrim, it's a long way  
To find out who you are_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The wrinkled old hand wiped her forehead and the young unconscious girl moaned in her sleep. 

Rocco looked up at Dolores. "How long do you think it'll take?" 

The old woman closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened her eyes she frowned. "She has to find him first...she must see for herself before anything." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_Pilgrim, it's a long way  
To find out who you are_

She didn't know why she was walking or where she was going all she knew is that her translucent feet were being pulled by something unidentifiable. Every time the sole of her bare feet touched the rocky hot ground she winced at the feel of the small penetrating rocks that dug into her soft flesh and the burning sting of incandescent coal. 

Buffy saw the cliff she was walking on was the brim of a large pit filled with burning lava that let out fevered fumes and hit her face like a speeding truck. She could hear howls of pain everywhere. As she walked she saw bones and skulls, beaten and burned men and women in the floor raising up their arms at her begging for a drink. Their faces hollow and filled with ulcers and external tumors that dripped with puss and maggots. 

She cringed and looked away, bile rising up her throat, panicking at the thought that she might look like that if she remained there much longer. 

The pull that was guiding her brought her to a small cave that was lighted by a few old candles. In the entrance there were little demons fighting for scrap pieces of meat and Buffy didn't even want to ask where the meat had come from since she had seen no animals. 

She walked deep in the cave, the floor much cooler, and she welcomed the temperature change with a loud relieved sigh. 

She walked towards very back, knowing instinctively that something important was hidden there. 

She took a candle from its place in the wall and used it to guide her into the darkness of the cave. 

Straining, she could hear low moans emanating from the blackness. 

There, in the back corner of the cave a naked figure was crouched with the front of its body facing the wall. Its head was buried between its hands and she heard distinct whimpers. 

Whimpers of pain and solitude, whimpers of the lost. 

She walked towards the figure. It was a man; his skin was pale and perfect. He had neither boils nor tumors on him but he seemed troubled as his shivered and trembled in the dark. 

She could hear him sobbing with all that was left in his heart. 

Crouching down next to him she tentatively reached out and touched his muscled shoulder. The skin felt cool to her touch so familiar... 

He felt her presence and slowly raised his head. 

Buffy froze when she saw the peroxide blonde head. 

Turning to look at her, he faced her. 

Buffy felt her entire world fall out from beneath her feet as bright tormented blue eyes looked at her. 

Her eyes watered as she saw the pain etched in his face. 

He reached out to touch her, his eyes filled with wonder and a twinge of...anger. 

She felt his hand on her cheek. Soft tentative butterfly touch. 

She closed her eyes and let herself relish the moment. His hand cupped her face and she smiled at the familiar sense. 

Opening them to look at him once more she placed her hand over his and kissed his palm. 

He turned his head to the side, his lip slightly pouting and he looked at her and felt her skin. 

"Buffy?" was all he got through his lips before she felt herself being wrenched from his grasp. 

She screamed, trying to hold on to him; she saw him stand and reach out for her, his eyes desperately trying to make her stay. And she wanted to stay with him, with all her heart. But she was pulled, faster than a slayer or a vampire could react. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She sat up gasping for air and shouting with a loud sob. 

"Spike!" 

She felt two hands hold her down, two other hands bring a bowl to her mouth, and thick bitter elixir was poured down her throat as she tried to push it away. But her body felt weak and she gave in as sleep overtook her faster than she thought possible, and as soothing hands ran through her hair she heard words of comfort that lulled her to sleep. Finally giving in she let her eyes drift shut. 

_Pilgrim, it's a long way  
To find out who you are_   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It must have been late afternoon when she woke up, her lids slowly opened as the warm afternoon sun flushed her body. 

She stretched languidly as if well rested. For once she had a peaceful slumber, that hadn't happened since...well she couldn't remember when she had woken up feeling this good. 

She smiled as the wriggled her toes and snuggled in further into the comfortable bed. 

"Mmmm..." she moaned. 

Her moment was ruined as a soft singing was heard and someone entered her room. 

She sat up and suddenly realized she was not at home. 

She was in a small room filled with unlit candles, pictures of saints and a small shrine to Holy Mary. Her bed was a small cot that nearly touched the floor. And the door to her sanctuary was a thin blue curtain that was opened by and elderly woman singing soft songs and carrying a small metal cauldron. 

"Who are you? Where am I?" She asked quickly. 

The woman smiled down at her and sat in the small stool by her bed. Her hair was white, long and braided into a bun on the back of her head. 

"Buenas tardes," she said. (Good Afternoon) 

Buffy look at the old woman apprehensively. 

"Do not be afraid, _hermana_. Here you are safe," she said and placed down the small cauldron. Taking out a small plate she began serving Buffy. 

Buffy's senses heightened as the smell of fresh warm food went through her. She realized she must be starving. The last time she remembered eating was two nights ago when she went out with Rocco... 

Rocco! 

"Rocco?" She asked. 

The woman smiled and continued to serve her. "He's outside, flirting with the local girls, no doubt." 

Buffy smiled at her good nature. "You're Dolores, the _curandera_?" 

The woman nodded and handed Buffy her full plate. "Eat, you need your strength, _hermana_." 

Buffy gratefully took the place. It was some type of bean soup with dry tortillas on the side and green vegetables. Before she knew it she had eaten everything in her plate and felt nice and satisfied. 

"_Bebida_?" (Drink?) Dolores asked and she brought a small cup filled with liquid to her. 

It was cool water. Buffy hadn't had water in a long time, it ran nice and smooth down her throat, putting out the fire of the spicy soup she had just consumed. 

She took a deep breath and sighed. "Thank you, it was delicious." 

Dolores smiled and took the plate and the cauldron away. 

It gave time for Buffy to stand up and look around, the ceiling wasn't too high and she almost hit her head. Suddenly she felt like Alice in Wonderland. 

"Hmmm, what time is it?" She asked the woman from as she emerged from the curtain. 

Dolores smiled and beckoned her to come. Buffy followed her out of the makeshift room and into what appeared to be her workroom. It had more candles and raged cushions on the floor. But what grabbed her attention were the many jars of strange specimens that adorned the shelves on the wall. 

"Sit, _hermana_," she said. 

Buffy looked down at the woman who was now comfortably sitting on the floor. "Why do you call me _hermana_?" 

Dolores smiled again and reached out for her hand, pulling Buffy to sit down on the floor with her. Turning her palm up she traced the lines on her hand. 

"It is written...in the sand of times. The slayer and the spirit of the woman shall be as one."

Buffy pulled her hand back as if scorched. "The spirit of the woman?" 

"That is me and the many before me." Dolores responded. 

Buffy looked at her hypnotic black eyes. "I'm no longer the slayer." 

Dolores shook her heard slowly and pulled out a jar from the shelf. It was red _achiote_ powder; she took some in her hands, staining her fingers clay red and threw it at the metal skillet between the two. Buffy didn't realize the skillet was lit until she powder sizzled and fumed radiating heat. 

The woman's face brought out shadows in the room illuminating her many wrinkles; she made a scary picture. 

Buffy pulled back as Dolores mixed her hands within the flames. 

"In the beginning of time there was good. Good was everywhere and everything. But not all good can stay good, balance was needed and from the many good, evil crept to the heart of some. The small evil spread through the land, it spread as far as the eye could see. Until the powers saw the balance was in danger of tipping over. So they created man. Man with the power to choose good from evil. The choice is within the hearts of every living creature. From man came forth his sister and mate, woman. She was to be a balance of the man. Her spirit was strong while the man's was proud. But man and woman could not fight pure evil alone. So the powers created a sister for them both. The Slayer. With the strength of spirit of the woman and the physical strength of many men she was the Chosen One. Chosen to protect man and woman until the end of time. But the slayer was not all good and was not all evil. She was the perfect balance of both but still with the ability to choose." 

Buffy stared at the women her mouth gaping. 

"You are and will always be the slayer, she has chosen you as the new vessel. You summoned her spirit and now she inhabits your human body giving you eternal life." 

"It's not fair!" She cried, standing up suddenly. 

The room got thick with power and she was forced by unseen hands to sit back down. "You see it as a punishment?" 

Buffy looked at the woman who stared intently at her. "Well all that it's ever brought me was pain and suffering and a life of solitude." 

"Life is suffering, _hermana_." Dolores reminded her. 

"Stop calling me that!" Buffy hissed. 

"You can hide in pits of black, in the loneliest lands, you can sink to the bottom of the deepest black ocean or you can travel to the snow country were the winds blow and you'll still be the slayer. The slayer is in you, intermingles with your organs, breathing when you breathe and hurting when you hurt. It feels pain and experiences love. The spirit is more alive than any other human soul." 

"So I no longer have a soul?" Buffy asked, studying the burning powder. 

Dolores smiled slightly. "What is a soul really? Is a soul an angel? If so then demons have souls too since demons were angels once." 

Buffy's head shot up. "What?" 

"A soul is what you make out of your existence, it's what shapes you and those around you, and it's the force of the universe alive in each of us. You can die and you can live, you'll still have a soul." 

"What about vamp..." 

"Vampires?" Dolores asked. 

Buffy nodded tentatively. 

"You're worried that...perhaps you've been killing souls all these years?" she asked. 

"Have I?" 

Dolores smiled. "Vampires are special creatures. The first vampire was made when the first slayer and pure evil mated." More powder was added to the skillet and Buffy began wondering if this was just done for the dramatics. "The child borne out of the union was not pure, it was tainted. The powers frowned upon the child and cursed it to live in eternal darkness, a creature of the night, for survival it would need the liquid of life, blood. The child was not dead nor was it alive, he walked in both worlds. It inherited the strength and agility of its mother and the eternal life of his father. It was beautiful like its mother yet is was ugly like its father." 

Buffy shivered as the room grew cold and damp. "I thought slayers were made to fight the vampires." 

"The first slayer could not live forever and in the arms of her demon lover she died. Pure evil, enraged that the powers had made his mate mortal took out his anger with her brother and sister, man and woman. He took a child from the couple and feed it to his son, the vampyr. However the vampyr had compassion over the child and in return fed it his blood, thus creating the first tainted creature. The child found another to feed and then another and another. Until the land was a wasteland of evil once again. The powers imprisoned pure evil in the depths of eternal Hell but their problem was still there. Evil roamed the land, so the powers made out of the man and the woman a baby girl. A special child that was to be the Chosen One. They gave her the soul of the first slayer yet she was as human as her parents were. The child was chosen to fight against her brothers, killing them and defending those of pure blood. And balance was restored." 

There was a pause and Buffy almost held her breath. 

"Until a young slayer came along," she smiled at Buffy. "This slayer was special, she impressed the powers with her stubbornness and her agility. She broke the rules by following the actions of her ancient ancestor and taking a demon lover to her bed. But she died bravely saving the world and the powers were ready to lay her to rest, having played her role in this earth. But you see, my dear, you are no ordinary girl and you are no ordinary slayer. You summoned the spirit of the slayer and she came to you, upon dying your soul stayed in that world you so fondly remember and you were joined by your mother...the first slayer. So you are neither human nor demon, you are the Chosen One. You have loved your brothers, man and Vampyr and you have love. No slayer has ever done so." 

"But Spike..." 

The woman closed her eyes and breathed in deeply the odorless fumes. "He is special, very special." 

"He's in hell!" Buffy cried. "We have to get him..." 

"Evil there cannot touch him." She opened her eyes and looked at Buffy. "You saw him, he was unmarked and skin still as soft as you remember..." 

Buffy nodded, tears forming in her eyes. 

"Evil is jealous of him; Spike had what he lost so long ago, the love of a slayer--a pure slayer at that, evil doesn't want him there. He's isolated and alone for all eternity." 

Tears were falling down her cheeks when the woman finished. "How long...how long has it been for him?" 

Dolores closed her wrinkly eyes once more. "Four thousand one hundred and forty seven days." 

A small sob escaped her lips. "We have to get him out, we must! I can't take it...he's so alone, you had to see him, he needs me..." 

The older woman looked at her in compassion. "He does. But it will not be that simple." 

"Anything, tell me what I have to do, I'll do it." 

The woman's gaze hardened and she stared intently at the slayer before her. "You need...a vessel, a body. I can get his soul out but you need his body." 

Buffy gaped at her. "His body is ashes." 

The woman smiled sadly at her. "Then there's your answer." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Rocco found her sitting on top of a large rock by the lake with her knees drawn up to meet her chin. 

She was crying softly. 

He sighed; she must have heard the news already. 

Quietly he took a seat next to her and stared out into the lake watching as the sun set, lighting the sky with orange and purple. 

"The local people call a sunset like this _La Boda de la Bruja_. The wedding of the Witch," he said conversationally. 

Buffy sniffled and closed her eyes. "I feel dead." 

"You've felt dead for some time, pet," he commented. 

She nodded and smiled sadly. "Been dead a long time." 

Rocco took out a cigarette and lit it, offering her one. She declined. 

Exhaling the smoke he looked at her. "What did you feel when you saw him?" 

Buffy held her breath as more tears trickled down her face. "I felt alive once again." 

Rocco listen as her breathing increased. 

"I still love him...after all these years, I still do. And I could tell that his only way to hold on to sanity is remembering us...me and Dawn." 

"Are you going to do it?" He asked her. 

Buffy stood up and began to pace in front of him. "How the hell? What am I going to kill a man in the street and let Spike inhabit his body? It wouldn't be Spike and he would hate it, I know him!" She took a deep breath and ran her shaky hands through her hair. "I have to let him go, I have to..." She sighed. "I know were he is now and that will haunt me more than his memory ever did." 

Rocco looked back at the sunset and exhaled his cigarette; he crushed it under his boot. "You know why I brought you here?" 

Buffy looked back at him, he was crying. She made a move to ask him but he held his hand up. 

"You see this cigarette? It's the last one I'll ever have. This sunset...it's the last I'll ever see." 

"No, Rocco," Buffy denied him in shock at what he was offering. 

"Buffy... I'm dying." He smiled sadly. "I have a few weeks left...I don't want to die strapped to a hospital bed, or gasping for my last breath...or even in a coma for months. I told you I went to find someone I could help. I always thought it would be monetary help I would give...but the powers are funny asses aren't they?" 

Buffy was looking at him incredulously. 

"So this is it. I give you the only thing that would make you happy. I give you Spike as my body." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

TBC.... (you know you don't mean the death threat...you really love me *g*)

Word Translation (Glossary) Words are in order that they appear in the text. 

-Montaña de Paz- Mountain of Peace. Imaginary town in the Arizona/Mexican border.

-Muñecas- raged dolls

-Abuelas- grandmothers. Usually from the mother's side.

-Masa- corn dough

-Cerveza- beer (usually made out of natural roots)

-Politica- local politics

-Americanos- Americans 

-Culantro- green plant whose leaves are used for cooking and healing.

-Achiotes- red root ends, that are boiled and sued for red body paint, disinfectant and for cooking pasteles and alcapurias.

-Pasteles- common food, made out of crushed green plantains, corn, wheat and native potatoes filled with meat, green olives and pigeon peas-there are boiled and served with salsa.

-Alcapurias- common food, made out of crush green plantains, filled with cooked spicy beef and deep fried.

-Rosa de Mañana- legendary blue-violet rose, it's considered a myth but it's said to be real in Indonisian, Mayan and Incan ancient culture. Said to powerful in the healing and witchcraft.

-Recado- common green-leafed plant that is used in cooking. Has a very strong scent and should be used sparingly.

-Pimientos- peppers, green, red and yellow. Usually spicy. 

-Violetas- wild violets, boiled and used for chants and house deodorant.

-Hermana- sister, kindred.

_Reference from my own cultural knowledge and Bless Me, Ultima' by Rudolfo Anaya._

  
  



	6. Breath of Life

**The Breath of Life**- Part 6 of Song of Solomon Series. _("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.")_

by: Isabelle 

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. 

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine. 

Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.)

Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to by Betas Allison and Marie-Claude Danis ;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He did it again! Stun her for what seemed like forever and all she could feel was the tingling sensation of blood running in her veins. 

Her world seemed to make sense and shatter all at once. 

With difficulty she tried to remember when was the last time someone had done something unselfish for her. 

She peered down at the present sitting conspicuously on the steps of her back porch. She knew whom it was from before she even went near it. 

The wrapping was twisted and sloppy, and the bow was falling apart. The card looked a bit bent and there were five cigarette butts by the steps signaling that it took a lot out of him to leave it there. He was not the yielding kind... not lately anyway. 

She sighed and gave in. She knew he wasn't around or she would sense him, smell him even. It was disturbing how since their night together, his odor stuck to her like a second skin. She could smell him all over herself no matter how many baths she took. Not even the concentrated vanilla lotion took it away. 

She reluctantly picked up the small box along with the card and sat down on the steps. She opened the card and almost smiled at his choice of stationary: two small cherubs hugging and drifting in mid-air, the top decorated with a festive 'Season's Greetings'. 

She opened the card and was surprised to find his handwriting was nice and scripted, complementing the paper. 

Dear Buffy, 

No, that's wrong. 

Buffy... no, Slayer. Sorry, I'm nervous, I've never done this before. Dru just liked to be shagged senseless and feed a pretty little girl, but I'm sure you don't want to heard about that. Right then, this is a bleedin' Christmas present. You know the drill. 

I wanted to tell you many things but I know you wouldn't listen. I could've written them but you'd rip up the letter so I'm just going to repeat what I've been telling you for almost a year. 

I love you. You know I do and I know you don't want to hear it anymore. I know we parted in really bad terms and you've been avoiding me like the plague, but that won't stop me from loving you. 

So Merry Christmas, pet. I hope to see soon. 

All my love,  
Spike 

Buffy folded the letter and bit her lip. Now she felt really bad, because although they could just fuck like there was no tomorrow, she knew he had a sweet side, one she had had the chance to see often. 

Ripping away the Christmas paper of mice dressed in Santa outfits, she looked down at the white box in her hands. She lifted the lid to reveal her present. 

It wasn't jewelry, or clothes, or anything fancy. And it was the last thing she expected to get from an evil vampire. 

A journal. A beautiful journal, gold lined sheets and the same cherubs from the card adorning the cover. She ran her fingers over the art with exquisite care and brought it to her chest. 

She felt something fall from the journal. She looked down at the floor and saw a white piece of paper. She picked it up curiously and opened it. 

It was a certified bank transfer for $3,000. 

She blinked once and then twice, before recognizing the signature. William Richardson IV. 

Spike had given her money, money to pay off the overdue house bills and the phone company that was about to cut them off, money to buy Dawn some presents and money to do some groceries. 

She looked up as tears ran down her face. This was probably all the money he had saved. And although she needed it desperately, she couldn't take it from him. Giles's money had covered the plumbing bill and the rest of the repairs, but there was still insurance and car payments... 

She stood up and called his name. She knew he didn't want thanks, she knew he would disappear not letting her return the gift, she knew that she wouldn't see him for days and she knew he didn't want to take the credit for this. She knew he didn't expect anything from her, not even sex or an occasional thank you. He just wanted her to have it. His way of easing her troubles. 

Which made finding him even more important. 

Without further thought she raced into the night towards his crypt. 

She found it empty. He seemed to have packed up and all that was left was a small envelope on top of his TV. She quickly opened it. 

I knew she would come to find me so I left for a couple of days and before you say it you're welcome. 

With all my love,  
Spike 

"No one's done something this nice for me in a long time a couple of decades maybe," she said, smiling. 

Rocco smiled inspite of the sadness he felt. "When I first found out I was dying, I was upset I didn't want to die, and if I stopped lying to myself I would admit that I still don't." 

She sat next to him. 

"I don't think anyone is ever ready to die," she told him quietly. Looking over at him, she couldn't help the small rush of excitement that went through her when she thought that in a few days it wouldn't be Rocco but Spike she would be with. "The place where one goes when one dies" She closed her eyes, remembering. "It's too wonderful for words Such peace and tranquility like you want to stay there forever and you do." 

He smiled down at her. "Can you do me a favor?" 

She brightened up. "Anything." 

He took out a letter from his coat pocket. "Can you give this to my girlfriend? Her name is Dionne. She lives in England She knows what's happening but I would still like her to have it. We thought it better to separate it would be easier on her." 

Buffy nodded in understanding. It frightened her sometimes how comfortable she was with death. But death had shaped her for so long that it almost enveloped her. 

"My parents they know. I said my good-byes before I found you." He took a deep breath. "If you drop by sometime at 1239 Rockefeller Drive, my mother would gladly serve you a bloody wonderful cuppa tea," he said, smiling, and Buffy could had sworn that she saw tears forming in his eyes. 

He looked at her. "The ritual has to be done before the sun sets completely" He looked at her. "Time to get Spike back." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`` 

Buffy gasped when she saw him walk out of their makeshift bathroom. 

His hair well it was bleached. She had to remind herself that this was not Spike not yet. 

"I thought it might be better this way and can I just say that this stuff stings! I mean, ouch!" 

Buffy smiled sympathetically at him. 

"Why do you keep on doing it if it stings so much?" she asked him as she wrapped his head with a shower cap. 

Spike glared at her in the mirror that didn't reflect him. 

"It's all part of the persona, Slayer. The Big Bad image," he explained. 

She went around him, shed her gloves, and grabbed a damp cloth from the counter. 

"The Big Bad persona?" she asked skeptically as she cleaned his ears, which were wet with peroxide. 

"Um Slayer what are you doing?" Spike asked as she wet his ear and made him squirm. She held his face still. 

"You have peroxide all over Don't your ears ever sting?" she asked, making sure they were all clean. 

"I always wondered why that was," Spike said in realization and Buffy couldn't help but laugh. 

"You're a big kid, you know that?, A one-hundred-and-something year old kid." 

Without warning he picked her up by the waist and placed her on top of the bathroom sink. He stood between her spread legs. 

She arched into him as he kissed from her collarbone to her shoulder, and when with his fingers he removed the thin shirt strap. Her breast spilled free. 

"I love it when you don't wear a bra," he murmured against her skin and all Buffy could do was whimper as he sucked roughly on her very erect nipple. 

"Spike," she whispered in desperation. "You'd love me if I wore a petticoats and smelled like whale fat." 

She grabbed his shoulders and brought his face to hers, finding his lips hungrily. 

His hands went everywhere along with hers. Exploring the territories they knew well. She didn't care that the faucet was digging into her back, all that mattered was the rocketing ache between her thighs. 

Spike pressed his erection to her clit, almost biting his tongue off when he felt the wetness through her panties. Whose idea had it been to do his hair in their underwear? Oh, right his. 

He grinned. He had bloody great ideas if you asked him. 

Her hips bucked up earning her a sharp groan when she felt his dick against her thin thong. 

"Now would be good," she cried as he pulled back and bit the inside of her thigh, successfully ripping off her silk thong. 

"Yes," she whimpered under his ministrations, so he did it again. She cried out in pleasure. 

Grinning evilly, he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, dropping the towel which was the only thing between nudist Spike and semi-nudist Spike. 

She grabbed his shoulders and threw her head back as he slid into her already slick core. He gasped for breath as he started the rhythm, and kissed her shoulder. 

Buffy leaned forward and took one of his hard nipples between her teeth, biting into it and making him shudder. 

She kissed his cool neck, his mouth; a sea of kisses, licks and bites. Neither Spike nor Buffy knew exactly when they reached their peak; all they knew is that they were left panting and gasping for air. She was still clutching at him when she realized she was still in this world. Softly he pried her legs from his waist and winced at the bruises they were going to leave. She saw his marred skin and bit her lip in guilt. 

"I'm sorry, baby," she said, softly touching the skin that would soon turn black and blue. 

He shrugged. "I'll wear them proudly like scars of battle." 

She smiled and kissed him again, realizing he still had his shower cap — hair full of peroxide. 

"Spike?" 

"Hmm" he murmured, snuggling her warm neck. 

"You still have your cap on" she said, giggling. 

"Oh bloody hell!" 

"You didn't leave it on for too long, did you?" she asked as she stood up and crossed the room. "I happen to know that if you leave it too long the hair kinda fritzes." 

"Fritzes?" Rocco asked, smiling. "Damn Ah well. Let your boy deal with it then." 

A wave of both happiness and sadness shot through her. 

"I don't think I've ever felt so happy and so sad at the same time," Buffy told him as they walked out the door. 

He stopped and looked at her. "Happiness is all that you should be feeling, pet,." 

She looked up at him. "Should it?" 

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead. "I've made my choice for some time now and I have no regrets You shouldn't either." 

Buffy nodded. "Everyone should have a choice in how they die I know I did both times." 

He chuckled at her comment and urged her out the door. 

"We must leave now if we wish to start the ritual today The next window in the lunar eclipse will be in three months," Dolores told them as she exited the house with a young girl, her assistant, carrying potions, blankets and some medallions. 

"I have three months left, therefore we must do it tonight," Rocco said softly. Buffy saw his desperate statement and took his arm, pulling him to the car. She hadn't realized how thin his arm was She had been so fixated on how much he looked like Spike that she had failed to see the dark shadows under Rocco's eyes. 

It was a sad moment for her. As they entered the limousine and drove to the ancient temple which Dolores said would be the place of death and resurrection. Buffy held on to Rocco's arm as if he would disappear. It crossed her mind several times that in a few days it would be Spike's hand she would be holding. But there was still confusion and a lot of mixed emotions. 

His hand was warm and though it scorched her she didn't pull away. The least she could do was to give him the support he needed in his last moments. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She felt the magic of the place seep into her skin. 

Rocco had showed the border guard a pass – something Buffy was not about to question – and they had crossed the border without incidents. 

They were in the middle of nowhere but in the center of everything. The mountains were a few miles from were they were, and the ground was brick red with an occasional cactus here and there. 

"This is La Nube Roja the red cloud. It's the ancient land of my people Here rituals of the most obscurity were made. The place is a home for many magicks including myself," Dolores said as they entered the deserted temple. 

The temple was about two stories high with a shaky roof and no left wall. There were three columns of red granite rock carved with ancient demons and rituals of the old Mayan.

Buffy saw what she would call writing on the pillars. A large demon served as a warning The whole place gave her chills. 

The floor was dirty, filled with debris and the red earth that surrounded them. There were small creatures living in the dark corners of the main room. There was one large stone altar It looked like an ancient gurney, a place of sacrifice. 

"El portal de el infierno, the portal of hell. Where the lost souls were sent and brought back. In ancient times demons were exorcised from the living here sent to the netherworld were they couldn't come back. Also the place where demons were brought forth, to plague invading armies or to kill a deserving person," she explained as she settled her things down. 

Buffy was almost hiding behind Rocco; there was something in this place that made the Slayer hum with desperation. 

Dolores smiled at her and nodded. "The spirit of the Slayer disapproves of this place. You'll not feel comfortable until you let yourself be one with it." 

Buffy nodded reluctantly. "I should meditate." 

Paula, Dolores' assistant, helped set up a curtained room so Rocco could change. 

As they did, Buffy walked to the back of the old building and found a small room with no west wall. She could see the setting of the sun clearly. The cloudless sky matched the red ground and it was cloudless. 

Buffy shed her coat and sat cross-legged on a large flat stone. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her surroundings. 

Within moments she was completely relaxed and hearing things she couldn't hear before. She could hear voices. Far off voices like gentle screams and cries. 

I know you 

Slayer 

Help me 

Oh god 

You're not welcomed here 

Buffy awoke gasping and trembling. Her entire being shook as if she wasn't getting any air. She jumped off the rock and looked around She knew what this was. 

She ran back inside. Buffy found Rocco walking out in his robe and Dolores finishing lighting up the twelve candles around the altar. 

"It's a closed hellmouth!" she cried. 

Dolores turned to her and nodded. 

"We're standing on a closed hellmouth! Do you realize what can happen when you summon it open?" 

Dolores motioned for Rocco to take his place. 

"I can't fight all those demons!" the Slayer told her. 

"You won't have to — I'm not opening it to retrieve anything that it doesn't want to give away," Dolores answered her with her usual calm. 

Buffy bit her lip but decided to trust the wise woman. She saw Rocco shed his robe, leaving him naked to the world. 

She felt a flush creep from her toes to the tips of her hairs and he laid on the cold altar, shivering. 

Slowly she walked to him, watching him lying there with his eyes closed. It was almost as if Spike was there. She was seeing him and again she thanked her acquired selfcontrol for not letting her throw herself completely on top of him. 

"You know..." he said. "I'm no longer scared." 

She smiled a watery smile before bending down and placing her lips against his. Buffy quickly pulled away and looked into those familiar blue eyes. 

"You won't forget what I asked of you, luv?" he asked, his voice a bit thick. She shook her head. "Tell him something for me, will you pet?" 

"Anything." 

He smiled and closed his eyes. "Tell him... tell him to forgive you... like you forgave him long ago." 

She really did try to stop the tears from coming but she couldn't. The only thing that guided her were the loving arms that took a hold of her gently from behind and pulled her through the curtain. 

"I must be alone with him," Dolores told her. 

Buffy curled herself up in a small ball and waited for the ritual to be over. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This is it, he told himself. He took a deep breath to calm his trembling nerves. 

Rocco had lived his life to be a good lad. He respected his father and his mother, loved his peers, was good at soccer and polo... well he was bloody marvelous at polo! He had won various championships in his youth. Made all the ladies flock to him... His looks didn't hurt either. 

There had been many girls. But Dionne had won his heart when he was nineteen. Why? Well she hadn't given him the time of day. She had ignored him and her wild red hair that curled in tight ringlets had made him want to yank it off. He had thought he hated her, with her fiery tongue truly inappropriate for

upper English society, and her manner of dressed frowned upon by all. 

She was a regular tart in his opinion. But it had all changed one day when he was walking home from a polo practice and it had started pouring. He had no overcoat or umbrella. 

Needles to say he was soaked. And the last person whom he thought he'd run into was Dionne, ridding her motorbike. 

She stopped her vehicle next to him and all he could was cringe. 

She smiled at him, her damn red curls sticking to her wet face. 

"You don't like me, do you?" she asked, smiling. 

He reluctantly looked at her. 

"To be perfectly honest, I don't, luv," Rocco replied. 

"Rockford Pickering... heir to god knows how much money, star polo player for Harrow, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five and the jewel to his mother's eye. Tell me, Lord Pickering, why is a man like yourself interested in whether or not I wear my hair down in tea parties?" 

He narrowed his eyes to try to hide to blush from his cheeks. "You're quite straight forward, aren't you?" 

She smiled radiantly at him and he couldn't help but smile back instantly. 

"Well..." she said after a long silence. 

"Well," he said back. His hair was dripping. So was hers. 

"Well, Rocco -- ain't you gonna hop on?"

"Rocco?" he asked with a scowl. 

"Rockford sounds like a gray suit. You don't strike me as that kind of guy." 

His parents always blamed Dionne for his change after that. They had loved each other for five years before he had been diagnosed with cancer. 

It had been too late. 

They had traveled to the States to find a good doctor. But Rocco had grown tired of the poking and prodding. 

They were running in circles and he had decided to accept his fate. 

As he closed his eyes, the light around him engulfed him. This was it. When he had called Dionne to let her know what he was doing, he could hear the pride in her voice. 

He asked her to forgive him. 

"Love means never having to say you're sorry, preppy," she told him, quoting her favorite movie. 

So he wasn't. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Buffy woke up with a start and she knew... The moment she opened her eyes she knew Rocco had died. She sat up in the small curtained room and wrapped a discarded blanket around herself. She watched from the corner of her eye the last rays of the sun sink to the west. 

The ritual should have begun. She took one shaky breath and prayed silently for Spike's safe return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He didn't know how long he had been rocking back and forth. He didn't know why his skin felt as if it might fall off, scorched. All he knew is that something had changed. 

Changed from the monotonous rhythms that had entranced him for thousands of days and eternal nights... He felt a presence. 

He knew it was it his dreams, he had seen her. She had come to him and he knew it, he felt it in his ashed bones. 

But now... it was different somehow. He felt powers silently calling him. Begging him to come with them. 

After thousands of days kneeling in the corner of solitude, he stood up. His legs were still strong and he realized wearily that he must be in his spiritual state. 

He silently cursed. 

One feet in front of the other he walked. He didn't know why he was walking or where he was headed or whom beckoned his presence. But he had to walk. 

He walked through the large cave into the eerie orange light of the pits. 

The heat hit him like a thousand waves. He felt like he was — burning, inflamed. He desperately grasped at his skin, preventing it from falling off. When he looked down he saw that is was still there, but the pain was as real as ever. He grit his teeth and continued walking, faster, wanting to get out of this scorching death. 

He walked until there was only a wall in front of him and without Thinking, he walked right through it. He let out an agonized scream as he crossed over to the other side, unable to contain the pain in his skin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Buffy's head shot up as she heard the scream. 

Her body froze in place as she recognized it. 

Spike. 

She jumped to her feet and quickly pulled the curtain. Dolores was trying to hold down a screaming Spike. There were tear tracks down his face and his entire nude body was lifted off the stone. 

His veins were enlarged and she could clearly see them on his arms, legs and neck. His eyes were shut and he was moving his head back and forth and he continued to scream in pain. 

Buffy quickly ran to them and looked at Dolores for answers. "What's happening to him?" she screamed above the vampire's cries. 

"He's feeling the fires of hell -- it's all in his mind but it feels real him. We must make him understand that he's no longer there," she cried. 

Buffy nodded and quickly grabbed both of his shoulders, forcing him down. 

She used all of her strength and he still lifted himself off. He was sobbing loudly and bucking up and down. She could see blood trickling from his hands as his short nails dug into his palms. His mouth spurted blood from biting his tongue. 

"Oh god! Help him!" she cried to the older woman. 

"I can't help him! He must realize he's here and not there!" 

Buffy quickly walked around him and held his arms down to prevent him from hurting himself. She straddled his hips and pushed herself down on him. She nestled her face into his neck and began to softly lick his skin and then blow soft puffs of air on it, replacing the warm air with peppered kisses. 

"Hmm... I love it when you do that..." he said lazily. 

She smiled into his neck and did it again. Softly she licked a patch of skin, leaving it wet and warm, then blew gently over it, sending shivers down his spine and finishing it off with soft warm kisses that made his chest do a funny rumbling sound. 

She giggled lazily and did the small act again. 

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead when she finished. 

"Gonna have to contract you for life... be my lick-puff-and-kiss slave," he joked. 

She laughed. "Oh, what a terrible way to spend eternity!" 

She felt him get serious before he even spoke. 

"Would you?" he asked, not meeting her eyes. 

"Would I what? Be your love slave for all eternity?" she joked but she could see the seriousness in his eyes. 

She wasn't ready to deal with that part of their relationship just yet. 

He quickly changed the subject. "So," he fingered her short hair. "You cut your hair." 

No sooner had she finished to pepper the kisses his entire form went limp. She pulled back tentatively and looked down at his face. 

There were dried tear marks on his cheeks and she reached out to soothed them away. 

It was no longer Rocco. The hardness of Spike had possessed the body... even his eyes seemed lighter as he slowly opened them. 

She took in a large gulp of air as their eyes met. He blinked once. He blinked twice. And then he closed them again. 

He fell asleep instantly. 

Buffy pouted slightly, a bit annoyed. She had imagined their first meeting to be differently. 

Dolores placed her arms on her back and gently rubbed. "He'll need sleep. He might sleep for days. You should get rest too, niña." 

Buffy shook her head and got off the nude vampire. "I'm staying with him until he wakes up." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Day 1 

He slept. Only woke up to drink blood and he was in vamp face when he did. His eyes were closed as he gulped slowly. 

Buffy caressed his hair, encouraging him to drink. 

He drank two pints.   


Day 2 

He slept. Woke up twice and drank the blood with much more eagerness. His eyes opened twice but there were blank and expressionless. 

The blazing yellow eyes never seemed alarmed, but there was no recognition in them. It made her look away. 

She kissed his forehead when he was finished.   


Day 3 

He slept and had nightmares. In his nightmares he cried out but never a name or words, just cries that only quieted when Buffy licked, blew and kissed his neck. 

He drank blood three times that day and opened his eyes twice. Buffy could've sworn that she saw a spark of recognition but he quickly closed them and dozed off again.   


Day 4 

Buffy slept for the first time in three days. She slept soundly and peacefully, her hand resting lightly on his. She didn't wake up until late afternoon when Dolores begged her to shower and eat. She did. 

The cold water of the mountains made her shiver and tremble. She wanted so much to feel warm. She hadn't felt warm in a long time... 

She quickly dressed again to find Dolores happily crushing some herbs into Spike's nightly cup of blood. 

The old woman looked up as Buffy entered. 

"Have a seat, hermana. " 

Buffy hesitated. "I shouldn't leave Spike for too long..." 

"Have a seat," she said again, this time stronger. 

Buffy complied and humored the woman. She felt restless, desperate to be somewhere else. 

"It is time for him to wake up" 

Buffy instantly rose. 

"Sit!" Dolores commanded. 

The Slayer obeyed. 

"He will need you to be at your strongest. Though you feel tired... find it within your spirit to be his strength. He might feel...inadequate. But above all he will feel guilt. He will beg you to send him back to the place he thinks he deserves... You must be the strength." 

Buffy watched as Dolores dropped the last of the herbs in the large brown indigenous cup. The old woman lifted the cup and offered it to Buffy. 

"Make him drink all of it, and though the taste it bitter, it will help him get his strength back." 

Buffy nodded and took the cup. 

Dolores sensed something in the air and closed her eyes. 

"He will rise shortly... Go to him." 

The Slayer moved quickly, pushing the curtains to the side and finding herself in his makeshift chamber. 

She gasped. The cloth that had covered his body had been taken off. He laid naked, with small painting on his body. There were lines and pictures, showing warrior figures. His face was painted with red brick lines like a Mayan warrior. There were candles on the four corners of his body, lit and melting. On his thighs were herbs, thin leafed herbs that looked like needles, all pointing south. 

She walked slowly up to him, watching his entire body as it lay silent and still. His chest didn't move at all, his eyes were closed, no rapid eye movement... just complete peace. 

She studied his body. The tip of his toes, which were long and elegant, pale with thin black hairs. She smiled as she reminded herself that she had to trim them. 

Her gaze followed his calves and their perfectly rounded shape. Upper thighs that held between them dark nesting curls with a large beautiful member. 

She sighed in relief. It was perfectly Spike's size. 

She felt him stir. Every other nights he had woken up screaming and disoriented, but she felt it in her bones, how this night might be different. 

His movements were more fluid, his muscles more human. 

She moved until she was standing by his head. 

And then it happened. 

She had told herself that was ready. She had told herself that she could do this. But now more than anything she understood why Dolores had told her she was to summon her inner strength. 

Because at that moment, when he opened his eyes and looked at her, recognition shining through his blue eyes, she almost fell back. 

"Buffy?" the soft voice asked. He was terrified, she could feel it in her bones. 

She smiled immediately. 

"Welcome home," she whispered. 

He looked at her questioningly. "How long was I asleep?" 

She took a deep breath and took a seat next to him, placing the warm blood between her hands. 

"Spike..." 

But he saw it in her eyes before she said it. 

"I died," he finished for her. 

There was pain in her eyes... pain and shadows of many things he had never seen before. He almost felt like a stranger was sitting with him. 

"Yes... you died," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. 

He pushed himself off the slab, Buffy rushing to help him. He sat, rubbing his sore neck. 

His eyes met hers again. "How long... how long have I been dead?" 

She avoided the question by shoving the cup of blood at him. He took it gratefully, gulping it down hungrily. She reached out tentatively and ran her hand through his short bleached hair, encouraging him to calm his thirsting demon. 

When he finished he licked his upper lip and looked at her questioningly. 

"You didn't give me a bloody soul... did you?" he asked, almost afraid. 

She had to laugh at that. "No... I didn't give you a fucking soul." 

The curse had just slipped from her lips and she instantly regretted it. His eyebrow shot up and he looked at her in confusion. 

"Buffy?" He took a deep breath and finally took in her face. She had scars. Lots of them. One under her eye, one under her lip, one over her left brow. A nasty one on her collarbone. And her hair... The last he remembered she had it down to her shoulders. Her blond hair was now down to her waist, some of it curled in dreads. "How long have I been gone?" 

Buffy tried to smile but failed. "Fifty years... You've been dead for fifty years," she said quietly. 

He looked at her like she had lost her mind. 

"I'm... I'm immortal... Stayed twenty-four well, forever." She took a deep breath. 

He looked like he was going to be sick. 

"It's okay, Spike... I've learned to deal with it," she said softly, trying to calm him down. 

Spike nodded absently. 

"It's going to take some time... but we'll be fine. We can work this through..." she tried. 

Spike shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. "Buffy..." he interrupted her. "Where's Dawn?" 

Buffy gaped at him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

TBC.....   
  


  
  



	7. Mercy for the Living

**Mercy for the Living**- Part 7 of Song of Solomon Series. ("_Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women_.") 

By: Isabelle 

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics: _Pilgrim _by Enya. 

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R 

Distribution: **Please do not take without my permission**. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is CarnalSins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soul mate of mine. 

Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.) 

Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com 

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to Professor Miller and Marie for their help with the beta. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid upon for thee, Oh my beloved."

Sing of Songs 7:13 The Bible

She had watched him puke, cry, and shake with misery. She knew what it was like to come back and hate that she was brought back. 

This life was a hard bitch and she now wondered if she shouldn't have done that to him. But to feel his skin again... it felt marvelous. To look into those eyes, to touch with the skin of her lips that soft cheek and let his coolness wash over her was more than she could ever describe. 

She loved him when he died. She loved him even more now, as he was curled up in a fetal position, with his head resting on her lap. She softly ran her fingers through his hair.  
  
He had stopped whimpering a while ago and she was afraid that he had actually fallen asleep. She nudged him softly. She would have stayed there all day but night had just fallen and she wanted to get him home - her small home, the only thing she could offer him. But at least it was something.   
  
He let her pick off the small herbs that were stuck to his body like sap on a tree. He needed a bath -- she'd deal with that when they would get home.  
  
He let her pull out a worn pair of sweats Rocco had brought and a navy T-shirt that fit him loosely. She noticed how thin he was and made a mental note to feed him.   
  
Spike stood in front of her, dressed, his eyes red and puffy, his gaze stoic.  
  
"We should go while it's still dark," she told him softly.  
  
He moved forward and past her, into the night. She sighed and followed him.   
  
"Spike?" she asked him. "Spike... talk to me."  
  
He stopped and looked at her. Her bright green eyes, just like he remembered them, pleading with him, asking him to drop his defenses.  
  
"Did she... Was she in any..." But he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, and looked anywhere but at her.  
  
"Pain?" she asked, touching his bare forearm lightly.  
  
He flinched and turned from her, his jaw clenched, teeth grinding.   
  
"She wasn't... It was over before she knew it... I think-- It's been so long." She let out a little laugh and he turned to look at her, stunned.  
  
She looked down at her dirty hands -- there were no longer the Smooth, delicate hands he'd known. "I don't remember much... The spell the monks did... it faded."   
  
Buffy touched the long silken brown hair carefully. She didn't want to disturb the figure, though she knew there was no way she could -- she was dead. Pallid eyelids closed over once bright and beautiful eyes.   
  
She was so pretty when she was a baby. She remembered chubby rosy cheeks and baby giggles, small pink hands that clapped together at the funny faces her older sister would make. And she had always had such beautiful thick hair. Buffy had always been a little envious.  
  
Ignoring the voices around her she picked up the fallen body of her sister. No matter what, she would always be her sister and no one was going to make her think otherwise.  
  
She rocked back and forth, cradling her sister's head to her chest.  
  
She was covered with ashes - her love's last attempt to save her sister. But this time it had not been enough. Nothing he could have done would have changed the outcome. He hadn't seen Dawn come up behind him and hold his hand, her feeble attempt to pull him back from what would burn him alive.  
  
But the energy within her and the energy of the portal had taken the last human breath from her and she had fallen, fallen amongst the ashes of a soulless vampire and the debris of the room.  
  
But she looked unhurt. And Buffy liked to think that she hadn't experienced any pain. In fact, there was a small smile on her lips.  
  
So she cradled her baby sister -- flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood -- against her chest and sung her to sleep.  
  
"Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top  
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock  
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall  
And down will come baby, cradle and all.."  
  
By the time she whispered the last words she was sobbing and clutching at her desperately. This is what she had died once to save - but you cannot save what was meant to end.  
  
Spike turned from her again and looked out into the night sky. "Why did you bring me back?"  
  
Buffy looked up, studying his whitish curls. "Because I still love you... and I saw where you were."  
  
She saw him drop his hands to his sides. His hands clenched and unclenched.   
  
Slowly she walked up to him and ran her hands against his shirt. She felt the muscles under the cotton and bit her lip to stifle a cry: he felt just like she remembered.   
  
He looked at her over his shoulder then turned around to take in her short figure. "I remember... but I thought it was a dream. It felt so... unreal."  
  
She smiled at him and cupped his face in her hands. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her warmth.   
  
"It seemed so long," he whispered.   
  
Buffy gulp and pulled him against her. They embraced wordlessly. She buried her head in the crook of his neck like she used to when life would just get too overwhelming.  
  
"It was," she answered finally, quiet.  
  
He felt the wetness of her tears against his neck and held her closer, smelling her hair and feeling how familiar her body felt pressed against his.  
  
"I missed you so much..." Her words shook with a small sob.   
  
He pulled her face back and looked at her. She looked different. No longer was she the lost woman he had seen walking down the stairs of her house after she had been brought back. She was no longer in denial of anything; she was strong and proud -- but in so much pain, he wished he could take it all away.   
  
They had hurt each other with words on their first sexual encounter, and it had been violent and disheartening at time, but this, THIS was real. This was the pain he never would've caused her... The kind of pain Angel had once caused her.  
  
He turned from her, untangling himself from their embrace and leaving her confused.  
  
"I hurt you..."  
  
"I only hurt when you died."  
  
He placed his hands on the wall before him -- ancient walls of tales passed. The echoes of its immortality sung to him and suddenly he wanted to be back there, back in that place where the suffering made him feel condemned. Feeling condemned was what he needed. He wanted to feel the fires of hell burning and melting his skin. It made him feel like he was paying the price for his sins and failures. Holding her had always been his heaven. How could a creature that had killed an innocent little   
girl, with large blue eyes and a heart-warming smile, be let to live and with the one thing he loved more than his own existence?  
  
"Slayer... You should've... you should've left me there," he said loudly, letting his voice echo in the vacant temple.  
  
"No!" she let out fiercely. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to have him face her. "Look at me. I see what you're doing. I know what you're doing cause I did it myself. Remember how much I hated living? How numb I felt?" She took his face in her hand and made him look at her, with her cheeks flushed and etched with tears. "You made me feel   
again, made the fire spark once more... You remember?" she asked him softly.  
  
He cocked his head and studied her... but he felt too tired to question the fine lines around her eyes and the dullness of her hair - long and stringy, not short and perky like had remembered it.   
  
"Where are we," he asked, changing the subject.  
  
She sighed and looked around. "It's some type of old Mayan temple -- it was the Hellmouth once. Only place to bring you back."  
  
He nodded and shuddered. "Let's get out of here."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are you sure?" Caesar asked his minion.  
  
The nervous little thing nodded, scared witless.  
  
"Y-yes, master. My cousin, who lives down south, just contacted me and confirmed it. The Slayer has brought Spike back from hell."  
  
Caesar smiled and rubbed his chin, wincing when he touched the sore spot where the Slayer had kicked him.   
  
"Well, I want someone watching her 24/7. Put the bitch's apartment under surveillance. She's bound to bring her lapdog home sooner or later."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rudolf Morston considered himself a proper and sensible man. His father, and *his* father before that, all came from a long line of professional chauffeurs catering to the Pickerings. They were all very proud of their heritage and walked with their heads held high, unless Madame said otherwise.  
  
So when he saw the young lady walk out followed by what he had been told was Mr. William Gordon, he quickly exited the car and smiled at her.  
  
"Miss Summer, Mr. Gordon. I was told to bring the car to the entrance," Rudolf said quickly as he opened the door for the young couple.  
  
Buffy nodded and let Spike go in first. He still seemed so worn out...  
  
"What's your name, Jeeves?" she asked him.  
  
The older man was a bit startled and stuttered for a moment. "Ah...Well, you may call me Rudolf, Miss."  
  
Buffy nodded and pulled her coat tighter around herself. "Okay, Rudy."  
  
"Rudy?" the man asked indignantly.  
  
Buffy looked at the proper old man and smiled. "Yeah -- suits you. I need to go back to my place now, so please step on it."  
  
"Miss, I am not a cab. Besides, I was given strict instructions to take you to your new place."  
  
Buffy placed both hands on her hips and glared at him impatiently. "My new place?"  
  
"Yes, Miss."  
  
Buffy stepped closer to him. "Rudy. If we're going to get along you need to listen and understand what it is I tell you. I don't have a new place. I live in the same place I've been living in for the past seven years. Now get me there."  
  
"Begging your pardon, Miss, but you no longer live there," he said, smirking. "And the name is Rudolf."  
  
Buffy lost her patience and grabbed the lapels of the man's jacket, slamming him against the car. "I've had a very long, weird day. I'm tired, hungry and on my way to pissed off. So will you drop the bullshit and take us home?"  
  
Rudolf looked at her with as much patience as he could muster and gently pried her hands off of him. "You, Miss, should learn how to control your temper. And all of your belonging are in the trunk."  
  
Buffy glared at him curiously but followed him as he walked around the car to the trunk.  
  
He popped it open, revealing all of her earthly possessions, including the little night table that was the last of the Summer's residence she had left.  
  
"Why... How... When..." she stuttered, bewildered.  
  
Rudolf smiled and closed the trunk. "It was milord's wishes that you, young lady, be well accommodated. Your new apartment is waiting for you, and if you will please join Mr. Gordon inside the car, we will be on our way."  
  
Buffy stared at him. He wasn't kidding! She wanted to be mad at Rocco for doing this without telling her, but she really couldn't -- he had given her everything she wanted; she wasn't going to complain about his dying wishes.  
  
She sighed, giving in. "Alright. Just... hold on. "  
  
Buffy peeked inside the limo and saw Spike sleeping deeply, with his head on the headrest. Rudolf walked quietly to the driver's side as Buffy walked back into the temple for a final goodbye.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Jefe, she's still here. The old man showed her something in the trunk," the raspy voice spoke into the phone as he watched the Slayer walk away from the limo.  
  
"You and your men follow her -- I want to know where she's going," Caesar said on the other end.  
  
"Whatever you say, hombre," the other man answered and hung abruptly. The man lit a cigarette and watched her disappear into the temple.  
  
He smiled and exhaled calmly, turning away and towards the tavern.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy saw her as she was gingerly pulling down the white sheets they had used to make the makeshift room for Spike to recover. The room still smelled of him, a lovely reminder that her vampire was safely sleeping in the car, waiting for her. She walked to Dolores and helped her take down the blanket.  
  
The old woman smiled at the Slayer. "I thought you had left already, hermana."  
  
Buffy folded the blanket in silence and finally looked up at the old woman. "I wanted to thank you..."  
  
The woman shook her and dismissed it. "Fue nada." (It was nothing.)  
  
Buffy smiled at her and handed the folded blanket back to her.  
  
"Please tell me... about what I'm expected to do."   
  
Dolores looked at her and took the blanket from her, signaling her to follow her into the next room. The Slayer complied.   
  
This was something she had wanted to know for ages... decades, even, in those times when she actually still cared. The woman walked to the large bag in which she kept her instruments. She pulled out an indigenous necklace with a thin leather string holding a wooden charm. A small cross, antique, incrusted with a snake running from an eagle.  
  
"It is said that in the beginning of my people, the Yucatán tribes, the world was covered in water. The few settlers that lived like drifters on the sea came upon a small island where the only animals that hunted were serpents and eagles. The eagle hunted the serpent by day but the serpent only came out at night. Remember this: to defeat those who oppress you, hunt them when they can't attack. The demons of the darkness come out at night to hunt for easy prey. The eagle must be astute and hunt for them when they are most vulnerable."  
  
With that she handed Buffy the necklace. "Wear it at all times, it will protect you more than any of your crosses."  
  
Buffy nodded and tied the thin leather string at the back of her neck, slipping the pendant into her shirt. "Thank you for everything, Dolores."   
  
The old woman smiled.  
  
"Would you like a ride?" Buffy asked and turned to point at the limo. "I'm sure Rudy wouldn't mind--" Her words died on her lips as she turned to look at the woman. Gone, along with her bags and her blankets and all that she had brought.  
  
Buffy looked around, spooked.   
  
"Dolores?" she called out into the now empty temple, but she knew she was gone. She felt it in her blood the same way she had felt the power of this land when she had first gotten here.  
  
She quickly glanced around the temple once more. "Thank you Rocco," she whispered and quickly exited.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike slept the whole way there, his head pillowed on her thin shoulder. She would look down at him once in a while to make sure he was really there, and would run her hand through his hair and kiss his forehead.  
  
He was actually here.   
  
Not a dream, not a memory, but flesh and bones and sparkling eyes. She sighed contently as she wrapped her arm around him and held him closer.   
  
She smiled wistfully; he was going to miss his Duster, he had been practically married to the thing.  
  
They arrived at the gated community around four in the morning. The guard at the door quickly let them in and before long Rudolf stopped the car in front of a large condo.   
  
She nudged Spike carefully. He yawned and opened his eyes, standing straight and looking around them.   
  
"We're here, wherever here is," she said quietly.  
  
Spike looked at her with a questioning glance. "You don't know where you live?"  
  
Buffy groaned and ran her hands through her hair. "It's a long story... I kinda moved without really knowing it."  
  
He arched his eyebrow at her. She smiled and took his hand, pulling him outside the car. "I'm sure there's a bed in there -- you can get more sleep."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They both stood there, staring at the things surrounding them. Buffy wanted to run away and hide. Spike wondered idly how many channels the telly had.  
  
The apartment was bigger than what her house used to be. The floors were hardwood, the walls a soft pale white. There were mirrors and paintings on the walls. Flush carpets were sued at runners in the foyer that led to the living area. There was a large leather livingroom set with a complete entertainment center. The tables were made of metal with glass tops and flesh orchids decorated them.   
  
The kitchen was large and tiled in dark blue, filled with pans and utensils. There was a microwave, an oven and even a toaster-grill Spike went wild for. The refrigerator was filled with food, including bags of human blood, chilled in their separate container and labeled "for the resident vamp". There was an island counter with more fresh flowers and multiple cooking books - most were for the spicy Mexican food Spike loved.  
  
The dining room was bit strange; it was attached to the corner wall and looked very much like a restaurant booth. The seats were plush red and the table was made of kitchen tiles. More white orchids decorated them.  
  
Spike led Buffy to the bedrooms. The master bedroom was large... very large. With a cherry wood canopy king-size bed in the middle, with silk ivory sheets. Large Persian rugs decorated the floor and the windows had thick dark curtains blocking the sun. Behind these curtains was a large balcony that overlooked a large lake with a fountain in the middle.   
  
The dresser was filled with garments that fit both the vampire and the Slayer. The walk-in closet had all of the clothing she had left at her old dingy apartment, plus tons more. On Spike's side was plenty of dark clothing including a leather duster that Spike scowled at but didn't comment on further. The bathroom was a lush ivory and red. Ivory tiles and red towels and red accessories. There was a sunken tub and a large shower. There was a large vanity for Buffy to do all of her morning necessities, had she still been that kind of girl.  
  
The other room in the apartment was a small study. A computer sat innocently on top of a desk. Rudolf pointed to a button under the desk and the Slayer pressed it. She jumped back in fighting position as the wall in front of the desk turned around to reveal a wall full of weapons.  
  
Her eyes bogged out as she saw her own guns and some of her nastier knives. But there was also additional ammunition and newer, more expensive ones she had never been able to steal. There was also two ancient Japanese swords resting on a display shelf.  
  
Both Slayer and vampire turned to look at Rudolf, who stood nearby with a stoic statement.  
  
"What's all this?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
The older man smiled. "This is all Lord Pickering's doing. I just work for him."  
  
"Who are these people and what do they want in return," Spike asked him as he walked closer to the man. The older man did not move and did not seem to be afraid of the stalking vampire.  
  
"Lord Pickering's parents wish to remain anonymous. I am not in the liberty to say."  
  
Buffy shook her head, overwhelmed. Information overload... She needed a drink. "I can't afford a place like this," she told him.  
  
"You don't understand, Miss Summers; everything has been taken care of. You will receive groceries to your door every Monday at 3pm--"

"What?" Buffy interrupted.  
  
"Everything will be taken care of -- including Mr. Gordon's special needs."  
  
"Special needs?" Spike cried, insulted.  
  
"Your blood, honey," Buffy explained.   
  
"Oh." But he still glared at the man.  
  
"What do they want in return?" Buffy asked suspiciously.  
  
"That you continue to live your life fully for as long as you're on this earth. That is all."  
  
Buffy stared at him as he walked out. "If you need anything at all, just dial '0'," he said as he walked out.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She sat across from him as he studied what was outside the window behind her. She could feel her body trembling as she looked at him. His head rested lightly on this clasped hands, his elbows on the table. Pale blue eyes looked beyond her, peroxide-blond hair curly and mussed.  
  
"I still love you, you know," she told him.  
  
He kept his gaze beyond her for a while longer before he taking a deep breath and looking at her. She was not what he remembered. She had aged. Her hair was long and unkempt, stringy, growing roots. Her eyes were hallow and hardened, like she had seen too many hard nights. She had a nasty scar from her right eye to her cheekbone. Her skin was pale, and   
as wrinkly as an eternal twenty-four-year-old's could be. Her hands were callused and dry, the once manicured nails cut short and uncared for.   
  
"What happened to you, Buffy?" he asked quietly.  
  
Suddenly she became conscious of her appearance. For the first time in fifty years she wondered if she looked okay, if she looked presentable.   
  
He saw her falter, her lower lip pouting slightly -- reminding him very much of the night she came back.  
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
She shook her head quickly. "No, you're right, I've changed." She looked down at her long hair, which no longer shone in the sunlight. "I'm probably not be as pretty as I used to be," she added quietly.  
  
He frowned and took her rough hands in his softer ones. The touch still felt foreign. Like touching with gloves, touching through layers.  
  
"Pet, you're still as beautiful... You just look tired and..."  
  
"Older?" she finished for him.   
  
She knew him well enough to know what his non-response meant. She drew back from him. She didn't like this. All this time she had dreamed about him coming back, and here he was now, pointing out how much she had aged.  
  
But she couldn't blame him; he had fallen in love with a girl full of life and spirit, willing to take on anything, with more strength in her eyes than the armies of hell.  
  
"Spike..."  
  
He studied as she paced the room. She still had the same stunning figure, clad in black leather that left nothing to the imagination.  
  
"I know that-- I... I don't expect much from you. I just wanted to end your suffering -- in whichever hell dimension you were in."  
  
He watched as she walked quickly to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of vodka. With one gulp she drank a fifth of the bottle. He was stunned that she didn't flinch or do that cute 'yuk' face of hers. She was clearly used to this.  
  
"Buffy, what are you doing?" he asked, standing up. He was still on shaky legs and his knees faltered, making him crumble to the ground. She quickly dropped her bottle and helped him up. He was more surprised by her scent than her strength. She smelled like cigarettes and booze, mixed in with cheap shampoo and harsh soap.  
  
She helped him to the bed. "You have to rest, you're still weak," she murmured.  
  
"M'not weak," he protested.  
  
She laughed lightly and he could almost see the old Buffy - his Buffy - shining through, trying to pierce that hard shell she had created around herself.  
  
Buffy tucked him in, pulling the covers over his chest. She sat down next to him and took his hand.  
  
"I want you to know... I need you to know that I don't blame you. Whatever happened, I don't blame you, Spike. I never did and I never will." She studied his hand. These hands, which a few days ago had belonged to Rocco, and now Spike. They looked different. "I know you probably don't love me anymore..."  
  
He pulled her to him looking into her darkened eyes. "I've never stopped."  
  
She got lost in his eyes, eyes that sparkled with mirth and life. "Neither have I."  
  
They stared at each other for some time, studying each other with undisguised curiosity. Eyes, mouths, ears, nose, hair.   
  
"Your hair is long."  
  
"We had to dye yours. Rocco had it curly and brown."  
  
Spike suddenly looked uncomfortable and let his hand slip from hers, breaking the contact. "So you an' this Rocco fellow... Did you and him..."  
  
Buffy looked down at his chest, pale and hard in the darkness of the room. "You're wearing his body."  
  
Spike scooted away from her. "Giving me the yitters."  
  
"Please-- don't-- He made a great sacrifice for my happiness," Buffy said, leaning in to look at him.  
  
Spike looked at her. "And are you? Happy?"  
  
Buffy looked away from him. She could never lie to him. He knew her, even after decades of absence, he still knew her.  
  
"I guess... I thought everything would go back to the way it was," she whispered and looked back at him. "But we're not the same people we were then, are we?"  
  
Spike took her small hand in his. "No we're not."  
  
Buffy looked down at their hands. This was all of her dreams come true. But he was colder than she remembered. "Where do we go from here?"  
  
Spike brought her hand to his lips. Soft cool lips.  
  
"I still love you... You still love me."  
  
She looked up at him. "Is it enough?" There were tears running down her face.   
  
He reached out and brushed them away. "Is it enough for you?"  
  
Buffy leaned in and wrapped her arms desperately around him. She let out a little sob. "You. That's all I wanted. It's more than enough."  
  
He put his arms around her too and let her cry on his chest. He peered down at her, and his thoughts drifted away on their own.   
  
Fifty years.   
  
He tasted it on his tongue. The taste was bitter and oppressive. Fifty years she had lived alone, still loving him. Drowning her sorrows the way he had showed her. He waited until her cries were no more than mere whimpers as she held on to him desperately.   
  
When the tears finally stopped she moved onto the bed with him and fell asleep, wrapped in his arms the way they used to all those years ago.  
  
Spike stared at the ceiling.  
  
He felt sick.   
  
This was wrong - the demon within him screamed it. He moved his head from side to side but that same vision had engraved itself inside his brain. Ever since Buffy told him about Dawn he had seen it.  
  
His nibblet's wild blue eyes as she tried to save him and killed her instead. He had tried to protect her; all he ever did was for her and Buffy. But still in the end he had not been able to save her from death and Buffy from the dreaded immortality.  
  
He should be happy. He had Buffy for the rest of eternity. But the young girl that slept peacefully enveloped in his arms was not that same girl he knew.   
  
Her skin was not as warm as he remembered.   
  
This bothered him, in ways he couldn't explain. It was like both Dawn and Buffy had died that night and he had woken up in a nightmare filled with mirages.  
  
He quietly eased himself out of the silken sheets and pulled his shirt on. He walked to the boxes Rudolf had left in the livingroom.  
  
The first thing he found was the remains of his leather duster. He sat down and caressed the leather in his pale hands, remembering the feel of it.  
  
"'Fraid of loosing, Slayer?" he smirked at her.  
  
The small blonde looked at him in defiance. "Loosing? To you? Yeah right!"  
  
He smirked. "Okay, what happens if I win?"  
  
Buffy looked pensive and then suspicious. "I do that little thing you like," she said seductively, standing in front of him and rubbing herself lightly against him. Spike gulped and nodded quickly.  
  
"And if you win?" he asked, smirking.  
  
Buffy batted her eyelashes in mock flirtation. "I get your duster for an entire week."  
  
Spike pulled away from her. "You're insane!"  
  
Buffy grinned in triumph. "Deal's a deal!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Okay, fine. No bet then." She turned to walk away.  
  
Spike groaned and muttered something about Slayers with perky breasts and round bottoms.   
  
"Alright, alright. You win, as usual," he sighed. "You get my duster for a week."  
  
And she had beaten him - had killed more vampires than he did that night. And so she had been wearing his duster when he had died. It had survived, with her.  
  
He brought the leather to his nose. It still smelled like tobacco and a small hint of whiskey. But is was unwearable. The leather was so thin it would fall apart on his back. His heart sank at the thought.   
  
He went through the rest of the box. There was a framed picture of him, which he glared at. His smile was goofy, but she had seemed to treasure the photograph dearly. He smelled the glass of the frame and could almost smell the tears cried, night after night...  
  
He shuddered, his own skin feeling foreign. Why had he come back feeling so... off?  
  
He paced the room and decided to have a good serving of blood. As he watched the mug filled with O-neg go 'round and 'round in the microwave, he made his decision.   
  
He saw her little face, lost and defenseless, crying out to him and trying to save him, but being killed instead.   
  
He growled. This was ridiculous - he wasn't supposed to have a conscience. A soulless vampire couldn't have a soul, for christ's sake! And again, a third time that day, he wondered if maybe he did had a damn soul.  
  
He studied her sleeping form while drinking his meal. He remembered when he would lie awake at night and just look at her sleeping in his arms. All soft and warm, innocence painted in her sleeping features. He would fall in love with her more every time.   
  
The way her breast swelled from her collarbone and the way her soft neck dipped into the bedding. Blonde hair all around her like a Greek goddess that begged to be worshipped.   
  
He had worshipped her. Everything about her - her mind, her body, her soul. What was important to her became important to him, what she loved he loved too. At times he wondered if he had lost his own identity in her arms. But as long as he could hear her soft snores, he knew he was alright.  
  
She didn't snore anymore. Her breast didn't swell from her collarbone and her neck didn't dip into the bedding. Her long hair was ashen and dry, with visible split ends and smelled of cheap tobacco.  
  
He realized he needed a smoke. He found a new pack in her coat pocket. He frowned - she was smoking his old brand. He almost laughed, lifeless. She had almost transformed herself into him. She smoked, drank, cursed, wore tight black leather and dipped her hair in unhealthy chemicals.   
  
Spike shook his head as the smoke filled his lungs. They had slept all day, and the sun was now setting. He realized she also kept a vampire's hours.  
  
He silently cursed himself. This was all his fault. The woman he had admired and worshipped so long ago had disappeared and in her place was a rough warrior that cared not what side she was on.  
  
She hadn't told him that she had killed humans - but he could smell the blood on her. In her. She was no longer pure, and that disturbed him more than he expected it to.  
  
He put out his cigarette.  
  
It was time to end this.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy woke up with the deep, sick feeling that something was wrong. The strong, cool arms around her were gone. The apartment felt cold and empty, making her heart sink and pound wildly both at once. She climbed out of the bed on shaky limbs and quickly threw on jeans, tank top and sweater.   
  
The Slayer moved slowly, smelling the hint of fresh cigarette Smoke. She followed the scent out to the balcony. There he was, sitting with his legs dangling from the edge of the veranda. He was smoking her cigarettes, looking out into the night sky.  
  
She looked at the wooden deck that overlooked the lake, seven stories down.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He didn't acknowledge her, just sat there, shoulders slumped.  
  
She took out a cigarette from the pack next to him on the railing, and lit it. She could feel him staring at her again, studying her and the thousand things that were wrong with her. She hated it.   
  
She looked back up at him. He seemed so sad, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. She knew that feeling, that haunted look. She had sported it herself once.  
  
"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said quietly and put out his cigarette on the railing next to him. He looked at her and he gave her a small smile.   
  
And then he jumped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TBC......


	8. This is the Way I Live my Life

This is the Way I Live my Life- Part 8 of Song of Solomon Series. ("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.")   
  
By: Isabelle   
  
Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment. Lyrics, Remind Me by Nickleback.  
  
Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R   
  
Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is CarnalSins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soul mate of mine.   
  
Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.)   
  
Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com   
  
Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to Heller for her quick beta :o)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"They all hold swords, being expert in war: everyman hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night."  
  
Song of Solomon 3:8, The Bible  
  
  
  
Never made it as a wise man   
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'   
Tired of livin' like a blind man   
I'm sick inside without a sense of feelin'  
  
Buffy watching with horror as her love descended seven stories down into the wooden porch.   
  
Her heart was racing, beating a mile a minute...or perhaps it had stopped--she didn't know.  
  
His arms outstretched as if flying.  
  
"No!!!" she screamed, until she tore flesh from her throat. Like a fallen angel he crashed through the roof and landed.  
  
She watched in amazement how a fluffy chair broke his fall and he rolled, landing in a perfect stance--regal and slick like a wet cat.  
  
He dusted off the little splintering bits on his head and arms and looked up to her.  
  
As their eyes met Buffy was shocked to find that they were deader than anything she had ever seen. It reminded her of when she had first came back.   
  
The stare was a kick and almost painful as he broke it and ran into the night.  
  
She sagged with a sigh, mostly out of relief and the other part of sadness. It was not going to be as easy as she thought, Spike was not what he was when he died. In his mind he had killed Dawn. The one human being being he had loved platonically.   
  
She took a deep breath. So he needed to run, she would let him run.  
  
So he wanted to get himself killed or hurt...well, not while she was around, not unless she did it.  
  
With a determined face she picked up the phone in the room and dialed 0.  
  
"Yes, Miss Summers, how can I help you this evening?"  
  
Buffy tried to hid her surprise, but she really had other matters to worry about.  
  
"I need a car, a fast one and now."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
And this is how you remind me   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am  
  
Spike ran as fast as he could, until he felt his ankles might break off and he might have to stop to let them heal a bit. Furious with himself, the world, and that bitch that wouldn't leave him alone.  
  
He wanted torment and all he found was her.   
  
She wasn't real, this world wasn't real, it was a satanic trick of hell that was making him go crazy. He shook his head as he ran, trying to pry her heart and her rough skin from his mind. The way her fingers traced comforting circles on his lower back when she held him. He wanted to rip that part of his back off until he bled and cried out from pain.  
  
There was rage in him. Pure un-adulterated rage.   
  
Passing people in the streets, pulling them out of the way. Before he knew it his human mask had slipped off and he was bare to the world.Then suddenly the need for fresh blood was deep within him. Growing and murmuring to him.   
  
Shouting at him to find sweet, warm blood.  
  
The type that melts in your mouth not in your hands, he thought, smiling. He looked at the happy teenagers getting out of downtown clubs in the wee hours of the morning, with skirts too short and boots too high to run in. He smiled as his sigh cause a lonely girl walking on her own.  
  
Tinted red hair pilled on top with too much hair spray and too much animal fat lipstick on her lips. She was alone and perfect.  
  
He could smell her loneliness in the way she tightened her pleather coat around her small thin body, making the sound of rushing blood in her veins even more delectable.  
  
He hardened.   
  
He was a monster and this was what a monster did.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It's not like you to say sorry   
I was waiting on a different story   
This time I'm mistaken   
For handing you a heart worth breakin'   
  
Buffy ran down the stairs of the apartment with the two heavy bags hefted over shoulder to find Rudolf holding the door open to the brand new Ferrari. He smiled at her as if all was well, as if her boyfriend had just not tried to commit suicide and was now doing God knew what.   
  
"Good evening, Ms. Summers. How are you on this lovely evening?"   
  
Buffy glared at the man.   
  
"May I take your bags?" he offered.  
  
"They're too heavy for you," she said.  
  
He smiled. "I'm sure I can manage," he answered, seeing as she held them casually. She smirked at his insistence.   
  
"Sure, Rudy," he glared at her and nearly fell all together on the floor when she shoved the bags at him.  
  
Composing himself he smiled weakly and almost dragged the bags--walking in front of the car to the passenger's side. She eyed him careful and cautiously as he opened the door for himself and got in, with her bags on his lap.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"I suppose they were a bit heavy," he confessed, whiping the sweat off his brow with his perfectly pressed handkerchief.   
  
She smirked and turned on the car, grinning at the sound of the engine.   
  
"This baby corners like it's on rails," she said.   
  
Rudolf looked at her as if she'd gone crazier.   
  
"Julia Roberts...Pretty Woman?" she asked hopefully.   
  
"I'm sorry I don't know what m'lady is talking about." he answered.

Buffy sighed. "You probably weren't even born then," she murmured as she hit the gas, making the tires screech.  
  
Rudolf grabbed on to the bags for dear life as she sped down the narrow road.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I've been wrong, I've been down   
To the bottom of every bottle   
Despite words in my head   
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"   
Yet?, Yet?, Yet?, no no 

  
Soft china dolls with perfect pale faces and long breakable fingers, like cotton stitching on swelling red skin. Welts of perfect brutality, flagellant marks on alabaster skin, let it drip with the blood of the accused, let it mingle with the saliva of the teary.  
  
Over and over in his mind it went like a birthday carousel filled with unsuspecting children. Screaming virgins with ripped skirts that ran from him and his bestiality.  
  
He wanted to laugh as she whimpered in a corner. Small, vulnerable, and moist. Moist from the sweat drops on her pale skin that made him lick his lips. Sweat would be found in the most delectable places, like her armpits, the back of her knees, between her silken legs...ohh he wanted to fuck her before anything.   
  
Fuck her until she slithered to the floor in exhaustion of pain and pleasure.   
  
She backed up to the last part of the alley as he stalked before her.  
  
"What's wrong, kitten?" he purred and she whimpered more. "Are you scared, m'china doll?"   
  
She nodded and slid down to the floor, tears marring her face, small pink lips trembling.   
  
"I bet you taste like sweet vanilla..." he studied her. "You know what vanilla tastes like, china doll?"  
  
The girl let out a small sob and clutched her coat around her.   
  
"Worry not, daddy will let you taste of it, pet. Keep that perfect beauty forever..." he cocked his head to the side and gently kneeled next to her.   
  
"I'm a monster, y'know?" he said conversationally.  
  
The girl shook her head in denial. "I'm sure you're not, mister."  
  
Spike smiled at her for some time then shook his face. Monster revealed.   
  
She screamed and started to cry in earnest.   
  
"Please..please...please..."  
  
He chuckled. "Oh god, I love the sound of please...makes the meal so much more tasty....you know I was wrong--you might taste like veal. I like veal, you know."  
  
Gently he caressed the exposed fingers that clutched her coat. "You know when was the last time I fed?"  
  
She did nothing but cry. But he continued the rubbing of her knuckles, moving up to her wrist.  
  
"A long time ago...before you were even born. And to think that you were born with the specific purpose of being my first meal in over half a century."  
  
She whimpered and he grabbed her shoulder and stood her up with him, pressing her small body flush against his.   
  
"But it's like riding a bike--y'never forget."  
  
And with that his mouth descended.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy sped through downtown--club area, the darkest places. She would know if he was around, she always knew. But she had this deep sinking feeling in her gut that everything was not as peachy as she was pretending it was. With that thought she floored the accelerator her jaw set with determination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It's not like you didn't know that   
I said I love you and I swear I still do   
It must have been so bad   
'Cause living with me must have damn near killed you   
  
Before sharp pointed teeth could slice the perfect white neck he growled deep in his throat as his shoulder was pierced with an arrow.  
  
He shoved china doll to the side and turned to look at his attacker.  
  
Only it wasn't an attacker...it was fifty of them.  
  
"Evenin' gents," he said, smiled though the pain in his shoulder was running up and down his left hand.   
  
The vampires did nothing but stare at him. Some grinned and showed their fangs.   
  
One dressed in a suit walked in front of the rest. His hair jet black, and combed with thick gel all back. Calm face and narrow black eyes as he clapped.   
  
"If I wouldn't have stopped you, you would've done it, friend." the   
vampire in the suit said.  
  
"Yeah, well I was hungry...friend," Spike answered wearily.  
  
The vampire smiled. "You must be Spike."  
  
Spike straightened and glared at the man. "Not fair, friend, you know my name but I don't kow yours--plus you just shot me. Need to know the name of the man I'm gonna kill."  
  
"Well that's not nice, William." he answered.  
  
"I'm not a nice man." Spike replied.  
  
The man smiled and nodded. "So enough with the chit chat?"   
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"Right--I'm here looking for your lady love."   
  
Set jaw was more than enough to show that the blond vampire was not happy about whom he was looking for. "I think any 'message' you need to give to her I can deliver."  
  
The vampire chuckled. "What a pity...I liked fucking her over. Beating her up until she couldn't walk. Tough little shit that one is but then again aren't all Slayers that way?"  
  
Spike had to take deep breaths to prevent himself from ripping his throat out.   
  
"Well we should both know...you fucked her."  
  
The man waited for his answer.   
  
Nothing, just clenching and unclenching his hands.   
  
"And so have I."  
  
And that did it. With pure rage Spike launched himself at the man, only to be jumped by forty nine others.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy knew it instantly when they jumped him. She stopped the car at the mouth of the alley. She could smell him...like a nascence.  
  
Rudolf looked at the neighborhood as the small woman exited the car and walked to his side.  
  
"Ms. Summers do you really think it's a good idea to leave the car here?" he looked at the homeless people in the sidewalks and the vampires whores grinning at him. "It looks a bit...dark, not well lit."  
  
Buffy yanked the car doors opened and dragged out one of the bags. She set it on the ground and pulled out a 12 gauge shotgun, filling it with specialty bullets made out of wood lining. Vampire killers.  
  
She filled it to the 8 runs it could go and cocked it.   
  
Looking around at the observing people.  
  
"Touch the car or the old fart and you'll be singing halleluyas for Lucifer."  
  
No one objected.  
  
She looked back at Rudolf who as almost huddled in the car. "They won't hurt you. If one of them comes near you use the stake. She signaled to the piece of wood she threw at his lap after she grabbed the other bag from him.  
  
He watched with open mouth as she walked alone and bravely to the alley that led to the large old abandoned playground.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
This is how you remind me   
Of what I really am   
  
  
So this is death, William, Spike thought idly as he was kicked and punched into a huddling, whimpering mess in the floor. He had put up a brave fight, but he didn't have a stake with him and all it did was make his fist run bloody as they connected blindly to sharp teeth.  
  
He was giving in...it was almost peaceful if there wasn't so much pain...  
  
But suddenly it stopped.

  
  
All heads turned to where the fire was shot that left one of their companions dust.   
  
Small, frail looking slayer stood there with a look that would melt ice.   
  
"Well, boys, I think you just dug your own gravesoh wait—you're already dead." She smiled.  
  
The man with the suit stepped up, his eyes burning with hatred.  
  
"Slayer," he greeted.   
  
"Tito," she answered back.  
  
"He were expecting you. Didn't mean to hurt your friendpoor thing, put up a brave fight—didn't you William?"  
  
Buffy eyes narrowed as she saw Spike curled into a ball and started shaking.  
  
"Ashes to ashesand dust to dust," she said and fired very pointedly at Tito's chest. The vampire's eyes went wide with disbelief right before he exploded into a mess.  
  
Buffy pumped her gun. "Would've had second thoughts if he hadn't been so sloppy in bed."  
  
More than half of the vampires ran out as their leader was taken out but about twenty of them remained, eager to see which one of them could best the immortal Slayer.  
  
"Ok, who's next?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~''  
  
Rudolf almost jumped when he saw vampires running out of the alley were he had seen Buffy disappear to.   
  
They were running scared for their unlives.   
  
He grinned. Well, by George, we're winning, he though happily though his strategy was to remain in the car.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``  
  
Spike felt the fight all around him but all he could do was stay curled up the way he was. Maybe he was back in hell and he had succeeded in dying. He was now being tormented to an eternity of hearing Buffy fight for her life.  
  
This was more like it—this was a punishment he deserved for killing Dawn.  
  
He breathed in the fight around him, he could smell her sweat and hear her grunts. Bones being crushed by powerful kicks to the chest, the eerie sound of exploding skin—turning into dust.   
  
It was an eternity before it quieted down and he felt gently yet strong hands on him.   
  
"Spike?" soft whispering voice. He felt like he was drowning.  
  
Small warm hands on his face and sweet pepper kisses on his cheek. It was enough pleasure to make him open his eyes.  
  
Shit, he was back on earth.  
  
"Buffy?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
The slayer pulled him up, gently, wincing as he winced.  
  
When standing up he felt her small arms go around him to support him. This was wrong, he was supposed to be in hell, suffering unbearable torment for what he did to her. Turning her into a creature who fucked vampires to get off on it, a person who no longer smelled of vanilla but of strong whiskey.  
  
He shook his head in denial. "No—I'm dead, this isn't real." He whispered.  
  
But his whispered pleas were met by a small squeeze and a kiss to his forehead.  
  
Last thing he felt before he fainted.  
  
Buffy watched as Spike gave in. He was beaten all over, probably a couple of broken ribs and a broken nose.  
  
Minding his cuts she hefted him up on her shoulders and carried him out of the alley.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
Rudolf quickly got off and held the door open as the Slayer came into view with the fallen vampire.  
  
"Is he all right?" he asked.  
  
Buffy nodded as she lowered Spike into the almost non-existent back seat. "Nothing that a few stitches and some wrapping won't mend, he heals faster than most vampires."  
  
"And why is that," the man asked trying to hide his disgust at the sight of so much bloodespecially all over the car.  
  
"Line of Aurelius." She answered shortly and walked to her side of the car.  
  
Rudolf nodded as if he knew what she was talking about. Looking around him he saw the people and creatures in the street looking at him.  
  
"I'll have you know that I am a very powerful warrior—I come from a long line ofdestined to fight evil. And if any of you are creatures of evil then by George you should look out. I bloody well have no patience for soulless creatures." He said, puffing up his chest.  
  
Then they started laughing.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
As Buffy pulled up to the apartment complex Rudolf felt a strange shot of regret.   
  
"We shall go out again. Fight evil. I'll bring the car." He stated. Buffy stopped the car and looked at him strangely.  
  
"Why don't you go on with your normal life and pretend this never happened, Rudy."   
  
Rudolf looked at her indignant. "I shall very well not forget, miss. Tonight I helped fight evil."  
  
"You brought the car and sat shit scared while I fought evil." Buffy told him smiling.  
  
"Well I should very well think that meant something—someone had to keep the car safe."  
  
Buffy chuckled but he could sense the seriousness behind her chuckle. "Be grateful for the life you have."  
  
"Begging your pardon, miss but driving Ms. Pickering to the mall does not compare to driving the get away car."   
  
She sighed and opened the door, getting out. The man followed her pulling the back seat forward so she could retrieve Spike.  
  
"Take my advice—I've been alive longer than you have and have seem too much shit in life to even begin to share my experiences. Get out while you can. You'll wish you could later on."  
  
"One cannot do it alone," he told her and she lifted Spike into her arms.   
  
"You're right," she said and smiled gently. "I have him back now—I won't be alone."  
  
"Seems to me he's not exactly volunteering, miss."   
  
A hard slap on his cheek told him he had crossed the line.  
  
"Have you ever been brought back from the dead?" she asked coldly.  
  
Holding his burning flesh he shook his head in disbelief.   
  
"Then you wouldn't know what it's like."  
  
With that she turned around and carried her vampire to the elevator.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
Something cool and wet was upon his face and that made his eyes flutter open.  
  
Then he realized the blackness was better as he felt pain radiate throughout his body.  
  
"Am I dead?" he asked.  
  
"Yup," Buffy answered and he gently tapped his nose in place. Spike groaned—why was his nose so large?  
  
"Hold still—it won't heal right if it's not in place," she told him.  
  
"Gently," he reminded her and she snapped it back in place.   
  
But she was pissed and gentle was the last thing on her mind.   
  
Funny how he could read her mood by how she touched him—had it really been fifty years and was this really not his skin?  
  
He relaxed as he went back to cleaning the small wounds on his arms. He realized he was naked—the warmth of the room filled him.  
  
"Why?" she asked very quietly, not looking at him.   
  
Her long blonde locks fell on her face and in the glow of the room he could almost see that young girl she had once been.  
  
He took a deep breath and cried out as his broken ribs made their presence felt.  
  
"I haven't wrapped them yet," she rubbing her hand over his chest, calming him.  
  
"Bloody ell," he whispered, reminding himself that he didn't need to breathe.   
  
She went back to rubbing his cuts with alcohol, he watched her carefully—she was still waiting for her answer.  
  
"Look what I did to youI promised them all I would never hurt youand a gain there you have the weight of my promise."  
  
She didn't say anything but continued with her gentle nursing.  
  
"It hurt, Spike." She said finally. "It hurt a lotbut at times I didn't know whether to be sad you left me or be proud of what you did."  
  
He watched as he finished with his arms and straddled his thighs, pulling him up. He bit his lip as he went willingly, shattered bones making their presence known.  
  
She lifted his arms, ignoring his gasp and went about to wrap him up. The smell that always surrounded her was driving him crazy. It was like talking to a ghost—she didn't smell like his Buffy--not the girl whom he had loved all those nights. Held her while she slept—little snores and all. It was sickening and he had to turn his head to stop himself from becoming nauseous.   
  
Buffy noticed the coldness of him and instantly pulled back, keeping her distance as she quietly ties a tight knot on his bandages.   
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
Spike's head shot up at her words. "At what?" he asked, confused.  
  
Buffy didn't meet his gaze as she gathered the first aid kit back in to the large white box.  
  
"Because I'm not the same girl you knew...those nights seem so far away, you know. I can barely remember them...only in dreams."  


  
"Will you ever forget?" she asked him.  
  
"Forget?" he asked confused and tightening his hold on her. She lay spooned against him in one of those nights when they stayed up all night either having wild sex or just touching and gently kissing each other.  
  
She combed with the tips of her fingers the almost invisible hairs on his arm. "Us? Me?...When you're alive...sometime in the future."  
  
He stopped breathing--not that he needed it but he would breath along with her, picking up her rhythm.   
  
"Spike?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him. He was staring at her shoulder as if it were a new discovery.  
  
"I...I didn't count on going on after you left again," he admit to her, finally meeting her gaze. She could see the pain in his eyes--this was not a subject that he liked.   
  
She turned around quickly and glared at him. "You what?"  
  
He shrugged and reached for her hot small body. "Let's not talk about it, Goldilocks--you're ruining the moment."  
  
Buffy let him nibble on her neck and almost lost her train of thought, but her resolve got the better of her and she pushed against his chest.  
  
"Please don't," she told him, although she didn't see his eyes she saw him physically slump.  
  
"Don't what, pet?" he asked as he tried to get her distracted by finding her ear lobe and rolling the fleshy part between his teeth.  
  
"Mmmm...Spike!" she got exasperated with him and scooted herself out of his reach. "You're never the one to avoid a conversation--it's usually me trying to bury something!"  
  
Spike sighed and rolled on his back looking at the ceiling.  
  
From where she was at, she admired the soft glow of the moon on his pallid skin. Like a siren bathing by the moonlight, there was her Greek god--one that existed only in the sheets of her bed, by the pale moon.  
  
"You don't understand, baby..." he said, so low that it was hard to understand, but she stayed still, watching him. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. "When you were gone...I felt dead. I've never felt deader in my life. Didn't care if I fed, if I got 'urt, if I died...never felt that way before. Not even when Dru left me. At least I had a purpose then--I wanted to kill you. But with you gone, who was I going to 'urt?" He turned his head to look at her and she almost jumped back from the pain radiating in his eyes. "I love you so much---something I don't think I tell you enough..."  
  
Buffy crawled up to him and held his face in between her hands. "A girl never gets tired of hearing it."  
  
He smiled and pulled her down for a kiss. Tender was the word for it---almost feather light. Full of promises and forgiveness.  
  
He was still smiling when they parted and she tangles her hands in his bed hair. "What's so funny?" she asked, almost a whisper.  
  
"I love when you kiss me that way," he said, closing his eyes as she continued to play with his hair.   
  
"I know you love me Spike, and you know I love you..."  
  
"But..." he said opening his eyes to look at her.  
  
She was studying how the bleach blond locks looked against her skin. "Please don't let go after I die."  
  
He said nothing as she continued to caress his hair. "I promise...only if you promise me the same," he said.  
  
The slayer looked at him, startled. She never would've have thought that he would die before her--her life was the doomed one. He didn't have a prophecy hanging over his head or a terrible fate. He was just a vampire without a soul who could love and be tender.  
  
"Spike, that would never..."  
  
"Just say you promise," he interrupted her.   
  
She looked into his eyes--those clear blue pools of love that said pages of feelings with one blink.  
  
"I promise." she answered as she kissed him again--that same way he loved and cuddled close to sleep the last few hours before dawn.  


  
Buffy shook herself away from those thoughts--they, meant too much and they did too little. She had broken her promise to him--the only thinghe had ever asked of her and she had broken it, but how the hell was she supposed to stay the same? Night after night making love to memories only to wake up alone, shaking and sweating.   
  
She was mad at him for leaving her and the was mad at the powers for taking him away. But above all she was even more upset that he didn't love what she had become.   
  
Spike saw her upset---could smell it a mile away.   
  
Taking her small wrists in his hands he pulled her forward and made her head rest against his chest.   
  
Buffy let herself be led. She's be damned if she took that little moment away from herself because of her stupidities.  
  
At least she had gotten him out of hell--she did her job as a Slayer...the job as a woman who finds her lover in the deepest seas of unconsciousness was not her job.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Pet, it's like 3 in the afternoon--prime time for sleeping vamps," Spike murmured, against his pillow.

Buffy continued the tracing of air animals on his back, pecking a kiss here and a kiss there. She was having a grand time rubbing his broad back--considering it was her favorite part of his body, plus she felt she should get reacquainted with it.  
  
"I haven't been up this early either in like fifteen years."   
  
Spike shivered at that thought and craned his head to look at her.  
  
She was sitting, Indian-style, in her panties and a tight black wife-beater. Her long locks pooled around her down to her waist and tickled his back whenever she leaned forward to pepper a kiss.   
  
Last night they had just held each other--Spike didn't breath, her lack of vanilla scent was driving him crazy, so he just held her while she sighed happily in her sleep, murmuring his name once in while.   
  
Halfway through the night she had wanted more and that had brought on vivid memories of their 24hour-long shag fests they used to have but he really wasn't really for her yet. Not that he didn't want her, it was just not...his Buffy.   
  
"Don't say it that way," he begged her.  
  
Buffy frowned in confusion and left her invisi-elephant half done.   
  
"Say what?"  
  
Spike sighed and rolled over. "The eternity stuff..."  
  
"What? That I've been alive for like 52 years since you died...since we were together?" She bit her lip out of insecurity when she finished.   
  
Spike closed his eyes and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. "When did you realize that you were immortal?"  
  
Buffy pulled her legs out and stretch them before her, grabbing his hair with her big toes and giving it a affectionate pull. He grabbed her small foot and tickled the sole, making her squirm and giggle. It felt strange...for Spike. This was like it was before, it was his Buffy and suddenly he felt the urge to kiss her.  
  
She had no clue what happened...once moment she was trying her best to win back his affection and the next he was grabbing the back of her neck and trying to kiss her.  
  
Her instinct forgot that this was her Spike. Too many years fucking too hard for her own good and being with men she didn't give a rat's ass for.  
  
An affectionate kiss turned into a flip him over, pin him and hold a stake to his heart.  
  
"What the bloody 'ell are you doing, Slayer," he hissed as she pressed the sharp piece of wood that materialized out of no where to his chest. But despite the situation she had gotten better--way better, it was like she was a super Slayer, the council's perfect killing machine.  
  
"Shut up," she spat out, hovering over him.   
  
Spike studied her eyes--they were blank, expressionless as if she weren't there. Looking right at him but not looking at all.  
  
"Slayer?"  
  
The stake pressed deeper.  
  
"Pet?"   
  
There was no movement--just that blank staring that was driving him crazy.  
  
"Baby?"  
  
For some reason that did it, almost like she shook herself out of her Slayer-like trance. Buffy stared down at him, almost confused as to why she was straddling Spike with a stake pressed to his heart.   
  
She looked down at what her hand was just about to do and she dropped it as if on fire. A small gasp escaped her mouth and she reached out, blindly, for him.  
  
Spike just held her as she shivered and kissed his neck, reassuring herself that he was still alive.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered to his ear, and nuzzled his neck.  
  
He just rubbed her back, comfortingly, and tenderly--like he was done so many nights.  


  
"What's wrong, pet?" he asked as he entered the basement.  
  
Buffy was sorting through the wet, damaged boxes in the basement.  
  
Though she tried to wipe her tears he could see that she had been crying so he walked carefully over to her. There were still in shaky terms since Xander's wedding and the scene he put on.  
  
"Nothing, I was just sorting through the stuff that needs to be thrown away--you know, the damaged stuff," she said almost non-caringly.  
  
But Spike knew this little Slayer better than that--she wouldn't cry for old damaged junk.  
  
He sat on the box opposite of her and looked over the box she was cleaning out.  
  
It was Joyce's wedding memories. Her wedding dress, her shoes, photographs, table decorations, her father's tuxedo--all wet and all ruined.  
  
Buffy was reaching out with shaky arm to lift the fungy-infested dress.   
  
It must have been pretty in her time, Spike thought.   
  
"Bet she looked beautiful that day," he said, trying his part to console her.  
  
Buffy did say anything but held the greenish dress in her hands, looking over the details, touching the pearls and lace lightly.  
  
It was then that Spike realized that this little Slayer still wanted to get married, she still wanted children and she had recently realized that it was all a dream.  
  
"Yeah...she was very beautiful when young..." Buffy whispered.  
  
"When young? Joyce was damn right delicious all the time!" Spike snorted.  
  
The Slayer looked up at him, almost a small smile in her face. "You thought my mom looked good?"  
  
"Well, let's just say that if you looked like that when you're her age, you won't have any trouble attracting me," he winked at her.  
  
Buffy smiled and leaned forward, grabbing his nack and pressing her lips to his.   
  
"Thank you," she said, after she pulled back and looked at his glazed eyes.  
  
"Humm...fo' what, luv?" he murmured, trying to get a taste of her sweet lips once again.  
  
"For helping me heal...for loving me and for loving my family...Angel nor Riley never did that and somehow you managed to get their love in return."  
  
Spike gave her a sly grin. "Does that mean that all the members of the family love me?"  
  
Buffy pulled back and folded her mother's wedding dress.   
  
"I'm not talking about that now," she huffed, but Spike had gotten his answer that day in the basement.  


  
"Maybe it's staying in this place that's got me all riled up," Buffy said after a while of drowning in his arms, his scent--everything about him.   
  
Spike agreed. "You must be hungry."  
  
Buffy nodded and then her face lit up. "I know! Just get dressed and we can go to my usual dinner table--I bet Molly and Teq are worried about me--especially Molly she always worries."  
  
Spike starred at her as she bounced around the room, excited, running to her closet and picking out her favorite outfit. Leather everything.  
  
She was too lost trying to decide if tonight she might go with the black leather pants that had only one pocket in the back or the one that had two that she didn't notice Spike come up behind her.   
  
"Spike!" she screeched as she dropped her pants.  
  
He gave her a low chuckle and bent down to retrieve the fallen items.   
  
"Loose something, luv?"   
  
She glared back at him.  
  
"Why don't you try wearin' something a little...different," he suggested as he looked through her closet.  
  
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked confused. "Florals, pastels? Not me."  
  
"Not you now...you used to wear things other than black hard leather...wouldn't be surprised if you bleached your hair along with it---that's not Buffy Summers, that's William the Bloody."  
  
She watched as he went right by her beloved leather collection and looked through a new section that she was sure didn't belong to her...too much Mohair.  
  
"This," he exclaimed as he pulled out a floral skirt with a soft colored halter top.  
  
Buffy crossed her arms and glared at it. "I am so not wearing that."  
  
Spike ignored her the way she hated and picked out nicely matching sandals. "Maybe put up your hair?" he suggested.  
  
"Are we going to a costume party?" she hissed, walking out of the walk-in closet and towards the bathroom.  
  
But Spike promptly followed her and shoved the outfit inside of the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Spike paced outside of the bathroom door--she was taking way too long and she wasn't making any noise--this bothered him.  
  
"Slayer! What the 'ell are you doing in there?" he growled at the door. She had never taken this long to get ready--not even when she had gotten ready for the wedding--he knew, he had watched from the shadows as she put on that ridiculous pink dress.  
  
But there was no answer--he took a deep breath and forced himself to wait a couple of more minutes--women could be fickle.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy was just staring at her reflection in the mirror.  
  
She had not worn anything but black leather since the day that Spike and Dawn had died, that same night no one could separate her from his duster.  
  
But staring at herself now it was like looking through a looking glass--staring at a girl who lived so long ago.  
  
Her hair was pinned to the top with a few escaping tendrils, her neck, arms and back exposed to the racy yet delicate halter top. Her curves where nicely hugged by the feminine skirt that reached her knee, showing off her nicely shaped pale legs and nicely decorated tiny feet.  
  
Something was wrong--her nails! She had to do her nails.   
  
When was the last time she had painted her nails in anything but black...and even that she had stopped long ago. They were chipped and pale--discolored.  
  
She cringed and opened the botekin, trying to find a nail polish.   
  
To her surprise she found ten of them--different shades for each occasion.  
  
She did a speed fast manicure and covered her nails with a clear gloss to they would look presentable. She made a note to take time out and actually file and buff them later on.  
  
Never did it occur to her that she was actually worried about the way she looked...in over fifty years.  
  
She did a quick run of her face--she didn't own any make up but opening another door of the bathroom counter she discovered an entire case of it.  
  
She silently cursed and thanked Rocco for his look on detail.  
  
So now she stood all done. Hair, clothes, makeup, nails, shoes..."Ok, Cinderella--it's now or never," she murmured to herself.  
  
She took a deep breath and opened the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Spike let out a sigh of relief when he heard the bathroom door open.  
  
"'bout time," he growled but stopped mid stride as he saw her emerge.  
  
His jaw hit the floor.   
  
She looked...well she was...  
  
"You're so beautiful..." he whispered as she cringed under his gaze. Buffy shrugged and tried to fix the top that had nothing wrong with it.  
  
"It's been a long time...a very long time since anyone has looked at me that way," she said, trying not to blush under Spike's gaping mouth.  
  
"Well..." Spike shook himself off his trance and grabbed the bottle he had left on top of the dresser. "Here--use this."  
  
Buffy eyed the bottle. Vanilla scented perfume. She hadn't worn perfume in years--she wondered if she would be allergic to it now, and this used to be the brand she had always wanted, the expensive designer one, she had always settled for the cheaper one.  
  
"Are you sure I won't smell like a harlot?" she asked, looking up at him.  
  
Spike chuckled and took the bottle from her hands, spritzing some on her neck, the back of her knees and her open back.  
  
"Wrists?" she asked, lifting her arms.  
  
"Nope--let those smell like blood circulation," he grinned at her.  
  
"You're a pig," she spat out at him.  
  
"I know," he answered.  
  
"I love you," she smiled.  
  
"I know that too...now, where are we going?" he asked, pulling on a leather coat he had found in his side of the closet--it was not as long as the duster, it was not the duster but it'll do.  
  
Buffy grinned. "They're not going to recognize me when they see me."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Teq wiped the counter for the 100th time that night as he cleared the glasses for the next dirty drunk who wanted to get re-wasted.  
  
Molly popped her head from the kitchen.  
  
"Is she here yet?" she asked.  
  
Teq looked around the bar/restaurant and shook his head. "Nope."  
  
"Yus, talking 'bout the Slayer?" Old Barney asked as he was poured another shot of whiskey.  
  
Teq nodded. "Sent a couple of boys to her place last night, they came back telling stories 'bout how the whole place was destroyed, as if someone was lookin' for something."  
  
Barney shook his white head. "It's a damn shame, it's what that is, young thing like her livin' all alone in that place--something's bound to be going wrong wid'that."  
  
"I'm with ya, Barney--she's a good kid, must be a pain in ass to be immortal and loose everyone you care about, wondering about the earth feelin' sorry for yourself."   
  
Barney agreed with the bartender as he drank.  
  
"Poor thing--saved my drunk hide one time, out in the alley. You know me, here you carry a stake wherever you go, but I was too drunk to grab it--out of nowhere she come' and dusted the thing before I could blink my eye," he said pointing at his one eye.  
  
"She's helped us here too, once or twice, when he have...unwanted company."  
  
Both men shared a nod of agreement until Teq was called to pour another drink.  
  
He was pouring the drink for a couple of college students was were entirely too drunk and were probably going to be dead by the end of tonight since they had to walk home when the blondes entered.  
  
The men in the place eyes her appreciatively, some whistled, some gave the bad eye to the young man with her.  
  
Teq looked up from were he was at, took a second to drink in her curves and gave her a smile.  
  
"Evenin' sweetheart, how can I help you tonight?"  
  
The blonde smiled back, almost devilish.  
  
"Teq, is that the way you treat old friends?"   
  
Teq had to blink three times before he realized that the beautiful woman before him was actually the gloomy, leather wearing slayer he had grown fond of.  
  
"Holy shit, Slayer!"  
  
Some heads turned and had the same statement of shock in their faces.   
  
"She's here?" Molly was heard from the back.  
  
"Molly, get out here and take a look at this--yu' wont believe your eyes." he said.   
  
The plump woman came tumbling out of the back doors carrying a large plate of Buffalo Wings.   
  
"Buffy? Buffy! We're have you been! And look at you all dolled up, doll and with a gent!" she cried out, placing the plate down.  
  
Buffy smiled and let go of Spike's hand to return the hug of the large smelly woman.  
  
"Sorry I made you worry, Molly," the slayer answered.  
  
"Let me take a look at you," the woman said, happily. "Well ain't you pretty! You sure as hell fooled us!" she eyed Spike with caution. "And who's the gent? He be treating you right, Slayer--aint he?"  
  
Buffy smiled and looked back at Spike who was more like glaring at the men that were checking her out.   
  
"Spike!"  
  
The vampire looked back at her.   
  
"This is Molly and Teq--the owners of the joint," Buffy said, smiling.  
  
Spike mouthed 'joint?' back at her. He'd never heard her use this much slang...unless it was valley-girl slang and that he found cute.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at him and grabbed his arm, pulling forward.  
  
"Well, ain't he the gent you came in with last time?" Teq asked confused and made Spike's nostrils.  
  
"Only in flesh," Spike commented dryly.   
  
"No Teq...this is Spike," she said slowly.  
  
Teq looked clueless for a moment then his eyes almost bulged out. "Well I'll be dammed...William the Bloody in the flesh and undead." He let out a thick chuckle.  
  
"How did you do it, Buffy?" Molly asked the slayer as she looked over Spike. The vampire squirmed as he was inspected by the other two and various nosy onlookers.   
  
"How's everyone doing?" Spike asked annoyed.  
  
"Don't mind him, death make people cranky, I should know," Buffy put in for him as he reluctantly took a seat by the bar.   
  
"Somethin' strong, mate," Spike told Teq.  
  
The man nodded quickly on pulled out a large whiskey glass, filling it to the top.  
  
"It's a long story, Molly--why don't you give me two of the usual?" Buffy pleaded with the woman. Without further though she agreed and quickly walked out the back door.  
  
Buffy and Spike invaded the nearest empty booth, smoking section of course.   
  
She looked around nervously—very aware of her outfit and the eyes on her, not used to the rough wool seat against her back. She pulled out a cigarette to calm her nerves.   
  
Before she could light it, Spike pulled it out of her mouth in lightening speed. She gaped at him, reminding her body not to beat up or kill the attacker.  
  
"What the hell was that for?" she hissed.  
  
Spike crumbled the cigarette in his fist, letting it crumble on the   
ash tray.   
  
"It's bad for you," he simply said. "And my Buffy didn't smoke—you'll stink up the outfit."  
  
She bit her lip at his words. His Buffy didn't smoke.  
  
She was no longer that girl and that made her want to do one of two things. Beat the shit out of him for telling her that or strive to return to that state of mind.  
  
She fidgeted with her hands, not knowing what to do with them, she was usually smoking and taking shots before her dinner arrived but now she had no clue what she should do with them, what she used to do with them.  
  
Her hand fidgeting was stopped as two cold palms enveloped her small fists.   
  
"You smell good," he said quietly.  
  
She gulped and avoided his eyes. What was she supposed to say to do—she was sure at one point she would've known, but now all that came to mind was pulling her hands free and running away—so fast that he'd never catch her.  
  
After giving up on nothing interesting on the table she looked up to him.  
  
"Why are you trembling?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side the way she clearly remembered.  
  
She took a deep breath and gulped. "ISpike, I haven't been that girl you remembered in a long time. I'm trying, I really am"  
  
He stopped her by bringing her small shaking hands to his cool lips and kissing her knuckles.   
  
"I don't want you to pretend," he whispered against her skin. The way that it made her flush made him smirk—this was the girl who would get all hot and bothered around him.  
  
She licked her lips nervously. "Then what do you want me to do?"  
  
He shrugged but never broke her gaze. "Just be Buffy."  
  
And she would've answered that, really she would've but the food got there and the plates got in the way.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
"It was good—it was very good," Spike said as they walked down the dark street, bellies full, including fresh blood for him from a local butcher.  
  
She made a face. "The blood or the food?"  
  
He chuckled and pulled her against him for a peck on her forehead. "The food—haven't had bloomin' onion and buffalo wings that good in a long time."  
  
Buffy settled happily against his chest. "Been eating there for a couple of decades—even when I wasn't living in L.A. I would visit Molly and Teq."  
  
"Sowhere are we going?" he asked, looking around the neighborhood.  
  
She straightened up and pulled him the other direction. "There's someone I want you to meet."  
  
Spike arched his eyebrow at her but followed any ways.  
  
They had decided in a cab after Spike coaxed Buffy from stealing a car. Now they were in the nicer part of L.A.—the suburbs and for some reason she went really quiet and jumpy.   
  
He wanted to ask so bad who or what they were going to meet but it was her secret and her right to surprise him.  
  
They made their stop in front of a relatively average house, with the lights still on and a small dog that wagged his tail at then rather than barked.   
  
"Who lives here?" he whispered as she rang the doorbell.  
  
She didn't answer him but straightened up her shirt and took a deep breath.   
  
The door was answered by a tall man, in his early fifties with small reading glasses. Though his age Spike could see that he had been a very good looking man and fit one in his days.  
  
He had a book in his hand and blinked at them.  
  
Buffy smiled at him and he relaxed.  
  
"Well hello there, Aunt Buffy," the man said smiling.  
  
"Hello, Connor," she greeted.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
TBC..  
  



	9. Black and Blue Alleys

**Black and Blue Alleys**- Part 9 of Song of Solomon Series. _("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.")_

Isabelle

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters—these are used for entertainment. Lyrics performed by Celine Dion for the Motion Picture soundtrack, Titanic, _My Heart Will Go On._

Spoilers: "Smashed"

Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco.

Rating: Strong R

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine.

Feedback: Please!! bih80@yahoo.com 

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy.

~~~~~~~~~

_Every night in my dreams   
I see you, I feel you,   
That is how I know you go on_

Spike nodded at Connor in thanks as the man gave him a nice glass of whiskey.

"It's good stuff, had it for a couple of years. Only drink it for special occasions," and he nodded at Spike.

Buffy had left the study after the basic grilling of information and she was 'fixing herself' in the upstairs bathroom.

"She doesn't come by often. Maybe every five to seven years...when she feels extremely homesick." Connor said, looking at the stairs. "Or when she's not drunk enough to hide all of her emotions."

Spike took two large gulps as those words burned him more than the liquid.

"She gets drunk often then?" he asked.

Connor chuckled but without humour. "All my life I've known her that way..." he looked at Spike. "Every since you died...uhmm..undied."

Spike's jaw set and he clenched and unclenched his fists. "That's all going to change now...I'm back."

Connor laughed again and patted his back. "Funny, old man."

Spike glared at him. "This all started with me dyin'. I'm back now...she has no reason to drink or smoke or any of the sort." His chest was slightly puffed when he finished his tirade but Connor's smile did not falter.

For being Angel and Darla's kid he sure seemed smarter.

"No one can change Buffy Summers." Connor told him and poured him some more whiskey. "Not even you."

"Oh I can...."

"Can you?" Connor challenged him.

Spike was losing his temper with the man... Angel's kid be damned. They stared into each other's eyes for some time before Spike gave in and finished his drink in one long gulp.

"You're not afraid of me are you, mate?" Spike asked him.

Connor shook his head. "I've seen evil you've never dreamt of."

"And what evil is that?"

Connor drank some more and smiled darkly at him. "Human evil..human evil can be the most selfish, bastardous, filth you will ever encounter."

"You sound like a bloody writer." Spike told him after a while.

"I am a writer...I retired from fighting my way some time ago... settled down, you know--in theory." The man told him, pointing at his desk where papers fell on the floor and a computer screen was on standby.

"A writer?" Spike chuckled. "Peaches would've loved that."

"Perhaps one day you'll tell me your story." Connor said and then turned serious. "She might love you...but you're the same man she knew. You love that woman from long ago...and things that we see in life or experience change a person... it doesn't make the person bad, it just makes them wiser."

"You think she's wiser?" Spike asked.

Connor pondered for a minute. "I think she's smart enough to know that if she doesn't change quickly...she'll lose you again."

"I don't want her to change...ok, well yeah, maybe the couple of things--here and there, nothin' big." Spike explained.

"There's two types of love, William." he said. "A love that loves unconditionally...and a love that doesn't love at all."

Spike stared for a long time at his glass...and this feeling that was burning in his chest--he was not prepared for...before Buffy hit the last step of the staircase he knew he had to leave.

~~~~~~~~~~

_Far across the distance   
And spaces between us   
You have come to show you go on_

They walked in silence on the way back home...to what they could call home. He had been quiet and Buffy knew in her bones that something was wrong...maybe it was her. She grew conscious and tried to make everything perfect.

"So... we don't have to do anything tonight or anything...you know..." she trailed off, she has started it wrong and she bit her lip in desperation.

Spike sighed and pulled out the pack of cigarettes he had taken from her. Buffy watched him from the corner of her eye...she knew that type of smoking, she herself had done it many times. When men wanted to talk after sex she would grow bored and the sound of their voice would be heavy on her ears that she would feel as if she were going deaf.

Did Spike feel like he were going deaf? She panicked a bit and quickly stopped, pushing them both into one of the alleys.

"Slayer, what the hell?" Spike hissed as he lost his freshly lit cigarette.

"OK--spit it out," she glared at him.

He almost leap for joy--he could almost see his Buffy...but his girl had never wanted to talk, it had been him with the poking and probing.

He sighed and started to walk away. But being roughly grabbed and tossed against the alley wall made it difficult. "Bloody 'ell!"

"You remember this Spike?" she hissed and pressed herself against him. "Remember the alley by the police station? How you couldn't understand what I was going through thinking I had killed that girl? You let me beat you until you couldn't walk..." her bottom lip trembled but her hold on him didn't falter. "You told me...lay it all on me...you called me your girl."

"And if I remember correctly you told me you would never be my girl," he replied not at all pleased about being reminded about that night.

"Then you said that you hurt the ones you love, well let me repeat it back to you, Spike. Love hurts. And I know you still love me because you know that you hurt me with every look of disgust with every time you pull away cause you feel I'm too cold or I smell too bitter... you hurt me...so I know you still love me." she whispered at the end, though her eyes were almost pleading as they searched his clear blue ones.

Spike looked at her for a long time, small pink lips, flushed skin, heart beating against his chest. He was a male, was his only explanation as he grabbed her face and pressed his lips against hers.

Buffy met him with fervent want and need.

It was glory to both of them. That sweet release, that euphoric moment when you feel like you've found what you've been searching for all your life.

_Near, far, wherever you are   
I believe that the heart does go on   
Once more you open the door_

Gripping his fingers in her hair--feeling his hard and heavy erection against her stomach--losing himself in the superficial smell of vanilla--cooling her temperature with the stroking of his tongue.

The both moaned as he turned, pushing her against the hard alley wall and pressing himself against her more.

Holding her still as she writhed in want...need...desperation...

She knew she was crying while she lost herself in him. This felt like heaven and she should know. To be in his arms again, to feel wanted by him again it was almost too much...she wanted to cry and to scream at those that condemned her to this eternal life and rub it their face.

Buffy Summers had gotten what she deserved...eternity with the man she loved and loved in return.

But as fast as it had started it ended...

He pulled back. This was wrong, he was hurting her more, making her think that everything was alright when inside he was burning with the need to feel condemned not rewarded.

He was struggling inside and he felt like he was losing. He looked back at her--she was disheveled and panting, her lips were swollen and colorless...all her lipstick was probably on him.

"I'm...sorry..." he said looking down and running his hands through his already messed hair.

Buffy looked at him confused. "What?"

He sighed and began to pace. It was not the pacing that bothered her--it was the fact that he didn't look at her while he did it.

"Buffy," he began.

And he didn't have to say anymore. She knew. It hit her like a ton of bricks...he was leaving.

_And you're here in my heart   
And my heart will go on and on   
Love can touch us one time   
And last for a lifetime_

"You're leaving," she said almost vacant. This wasn't happening, this was not her, this was not her life this was most definitely not him. Her Spike wouldn't...he wouldn't...

"I am, Buffy. This...this isn't you..." he placed his hand on his chest. "And this is most definitely not me." He looked at her and she choose to ignore the tears pouring down his face. "I loved Buffy Summers. I still do. You are not her..."

It fell flat as she smacked him across his cheek. "I know who I am." She was trembling as she touching him for what would be the last time. "I'm still her... but how do you expect me to be the same when so much has happened?"

He remained silent as he just looked at her...was it pity she saw in his eyes?

"Tell me!" she cried.

"I can't change you, Slayer and I don't intend to..." he said finally.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed. "So what is this? I love you but I leave you? Spare me! I've heard it too many times! And you! You were the last person that was supposed to say those things to me. You tell me I'm not the same. That I smoke and your Buffy didn't smoke that I drink and your Buffy didn't drink, that I'm hard ass and I've fucked more men than I can count...and I've killed...Spike, I've killed humans--so many of them... so that will belong to me for the rest of time...but despite all that My Spike wouldn't have left." her eyes bored into him. "My Spike would've stayed."

He just looked at her for a long time.

"Then I guess we're both different people." he finally said. He looked at her one last time. Blonde hair blowing in the night wind, proud little frame. "Perhaps we'll see each other again..."

She said nothing as tears silently fell on her cheeks but she didn't give him the dignity of watching him disappear out of the mouth of the alley. She felt numb... she felt like she had been beaten up and left like road kill. It this what it felt like to die...to really die?

Her entire soul felt dark and alone. Without realizing it she curled herself into a little ball and began to cry.

That's how Rudolf found her.

Had she been there a day or two? He didn't know but she smelled like fermented fungus and she was sticky with tears and sweat.

"C'mon, miss...no use crying over spilled milk." he said gently and picked her up, placing her in the waiting limousine.

After she was bathed and dressed in clean pajamas she sat in her bed...in their bed just staring at the window. Rudolf came in with some warm soup and placed it on the night stand.

She didn't say anything just stared out the window, silent tears still falling down her cheeks.

"In case you get hungry, Miss...if you're not already." Rudolf said almost quietly. She didn't respond and he sighed and walked out. As he reached the door he felt her stir.

"I want you to know that it wasn't in vain... Rocco's life that is. At least...he's out of hell and I did my job as a Slayer." She said roughly, her throat dry.

Rudolf turned around slowly and looked at her.

"I know it, Miss. No life is lost for nothing," he said gently.

Buffy chuckled humorlessly. "You don't know me, Rudy. I've taken alot of lives...didn't matter if they were good or not."

"And how do you feel about that?" he asked.

She thought for a moment and picked up her cup of soup, shrugging. "I learned to ignore my conscience."

Rudolf made an understanding noise. "Miss..." he started shyly. "Perhaps I am wrong... I've had not the years of experiences like you have...but perhaps that's why he left."

Buffy stiffened and glared at her cup.

"Perhaps the one thing he missed from Buffy Summers was her soul."

_And never let go till we're one   
Love was when I loved you   
One true time I hold to   
In my life we'll always go on_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How long is ten years to an immortal? A couple of days? Weeks? Perhaps it is years...more than humans. Because they know the extent of eternity. The smell of it. He had been gone for ten years before she made her way to England to fulfill a promise.

It was late afternoon when she knocked on the door that September morning.

The door was answered by a woman in her middle thirties. Pale creamy skin, and wild red hair that was pinned to the top of her head. In her arms was a two year old chewing on a piece of cookie.

It was looking at her that Buffy decided to lose her balls and she quickly turn back murmuring that she got the wrong residence.

"Miss Summers? Buffy Summers?" the woman asked.

Buffy froze and carefully and slowly turned to look at the woman.

The woman smiled and hefted the child closer. "I'm Dionne. Dionne Charles."

Buffy took a deep breath. "I guess I was in the right place then."

"Won't you come in, Ms Summers?" she pleaded.

Reluctantly the Slayer agreed.

_Near, far, wherever you are   
I believe that the heart does go on   
Once more you open the door   
And you're here in my heart   
And my heart will go on and on_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dionne wiped the last of her tears away as Buffy sipped her tea and tried to give the woman her privacy by remaining silent.

"I'm glad you brought me this now... I wouldn't have been able to bear it any other time." she told the Slayer.

Buffy said nothing.

Dionne smiled and closed the letter, placing it back into it's old envelope. "We loved each other so much...time passes and you forget... but it only takes a moment to revive it."

The Slayer's jaw hardened. She said nothing but sipped her tea.

The woman looked at Buffy and smiled. "Just like all love does."

_We'll stay forever this way   
You are safe in my heart   
And my heart will go on and on_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read the Epilogue...


	10. by Connor Aurelius

**by Connor Aurelius-**- part 10 of Song of Solomon Series

by Isabelle

Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment.

Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R

Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is CarnalSins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soul mate of mine.

Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.)

Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com 

Part: 10/10

Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to Heller for her quick beta :o)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

by Connor Aurelius

It was the Winter of 2061 when William the Bloody came knocking on my door..needless to say I was more than surprised. But I should've expected it. Buffy had come two years after he had left to just walk around my study and look over my kid's pictures.

So I knew he had taken my advice...it wasn't until I saw him that for the first time since I talked to him I questioned myself and my motives.

He was pale, shallow and thin...almost like a vital part of his nutrition had been taken away. His hair was brown, he didn't bother dying it and he was dressed in faded black jeans and a long duster. I almost asked him if it was the same one my mother had told me about when I was young.

He waltzed in that night, and I watched silently as the low light of the study showed off the planes of his sharp cheekbones.

William the Bloody was indeed handsome, not too tall but just the right height for his Buffy.

"Have you seen Buffy?" I asked him.

His features hardened and sat down on my chair. He looked around a bit...maybe to check out the book I had there maybe to try to hide the tears prickling in his eyes but whatever the reason was his pain flooded me like a Tsunami that destroys all you believe in.

"You told me once...well that one day that we met, that one day I would have to tell you my story." he looked at me and the pain that reflected in those blue eyes made me tremble. It was primal pain...like an animal that looses his pack leader. "Wanna hear my story, writer?"

I nodded and took the chair across from him, opening my laptop I set a blank page before me.

"What is your story about?" I asked him, although I already knew.

He lit a cigarette and studied the stitching on the sofa. "My story is about life...is about enemies and it's about the irony of events. But above all it's a story about love, mate." He looked back up to me. "I don't know exactly when I fell in love with 'er. Cause god knows I tried to fight it...maybe it was the way she fought or the passion behind those green eyes...maybe it was the way she looked at him." He took a long draft. "I wished every damn day of those months for Dru to look at me that way... only when I dreamt about it is was those pink lips and that blonde hair."

I listened to the vampire tell me his story... it was indeed a sad story. A girl who was not ordinary and a boy who was not ordinary fighting against everything to deny that they wanted each other. Coming together so passionate it was violent and running away from everything that spelled truth. Until one day they just gave in... let it in, let it melt. It was the first time they were happy for a long time.

He sat in my study for seven days. When he finished I was in tears...and I never cry.

He just looked at me and nodded in understanding. Had he been crying for ten years for the way his life had gone? Probably. And through all his searching he found that no matter how much he tried to forget that one creature that had made his life the way it was he couldn't. It was then that he understood how she had changed for those fifty years without him and how he would never find the girl he loved.

It reminded me of when a couple gets married and they're with each other for years... and then one day you wake up next to that person and you realize that they're not the same person you married, but you love them just as well. You love them for those experiences in life that have shaped them and molded them into the person you see before you.

We shook hands, the vampire and me and he left that night.

Before he left I asked him why did he do this to her.

He smiled and crushed his cigarette under his boot. "You always hurt the one you love."

I watched him walk away until all that was left was a walking shadow in the night. That black night that hates the light and loves the pain. That black night that hosts those creatures that are neither real nor fake. Just like my aunt Buffy, just like he whom they called Spike.

I often wondered if he ever returned to her and ceased watching her from the shadows, stopped making sure she was feeding right, made sure she didn't cry too long at night.

But I was never answered. I never heard from neither one of them again. There are many rumors in the dark streets of Los Angeles. Some whispered that the immortal Slayer and her vampire found each other and every X-mas they compete in the dance championship at Teq's bar. Some others say that he watched her from far away and one day she finally died in battle with a magical sorceror--he held her body as he met the sun's ray. Other's say they killed each other and their spirits roams the silent town of Sunnydale, and you can see them patrolling late at night and hear their passionate grunts in that lonely crypt by the abandoned cemetery.

All of those can be true but all I know is that I watched him disappear in the shadows of the night, in that place lost in time were his memories became his companion.

THE END

Lydia closed the book, wiping the tears from her eyes and glared at her grandfather.

"This is it?" she cried. "This is how it ends? A love story doesn't end that way…they end up together, happily ever after, you know?"

Connor chuckled and sipped his drink.

The young girl threw the book on the table and stalked up to him.

"So what happens?" she demanded.

Connor shrugged. "You read the book, you should know."

"You didn't end it! Make it right, grandpa! Make him go back to her and they live all eternity together!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Not all love stories end with a happy ending," he told her calmly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She let out a small sob. "But this one has to! After all she waited for him—all those years by herself! She loves him and he loves her."

Connor nodded. "This is true, they both love each other…but loving doesn't necessarily mean you're meant to be together."

Lydia placed her hands on her narrow thirteen year old hips and glared once more. "How does it end?"

"You read the book, you saw how it ends!" Connor protested.

"That is not the end and we both know it! They're both alive and immortal!"

"They are," he agreed.

"So does he go back?" she probed.

"That's cheating!" her grandfather frowned.

"Does he go back? Does he find her?" she asked, more tears slipping from her cheeks.

"One doesn't have to find what is not lost," Connor told her, trying to calm her down.

"So he does go back!" she smiled.

"Well his grand-sire was in love with the same girl…"

"Right, my great grandfather, Angel." She quickly said.

He nodded. "And he left her for her own good. It didn't mean that they loved each other less."

"Oh my god what a stupid story! All those years, all that time and Rocco's life for nothing? Why did you write such a stupid story?" she cried, now she was sobbing openly and her grandfather enveloped her in his arms. "Why can't he just go back and accept her…just hold her forever!"

When she has quieted down he leaned down to look at her eye to eye and grinned. "But you know Lydia…he was nothing like his grand-sire."

Lydia grinned up to her grandfather and looked back down at the book. "Why did you name it 'Song of Solomon'?"

Connor picked up the fallen book that held the picture of the slayer and her soulless vampire. "All songs are love songs…and Solomon's was the first."

_"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth for your love is more delightful than wine." Song of Solomon 1:1 The Bible_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The End

I hope every one enjoyed it, thank you all for the feedback, I might right a sequel don't quote me on that *g* --Isabelle


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